Untitled so far
by madelinear
Summary: Alternate ending. Chapter 7 is now up- *cowers* I know, I know, I've taken forever- and I need help with creating a spiffy title. Any ideas, please let me know.
1. The Lovers Escape

Untitled  
By: Sugar Princess  
  
Disclaimer: Satine, Christian, Zidler and Marie don't belong to me. All of Satine's and Christian's family does.  
Author's note: I've noticed a slight similarity to my story and that of Drama-Princess's. I started this and completed this before I read your story, and I apologize for those resemblances.If you haven't already read the story, do so. It's great!  
Author's note 2: In my other story, `For the former world has passed away', Christian's family is exactly them same. The stories have nothing to do with one another, I just couldn't envision another family for him.  
  
Let's just start.  
  
  
  
Harold tried to reason with Satine. Make her stay. If not for her own sake, for Christian's.   
  
Satine shook her head. All she could see was that Harold was trying to keep her captive. She took off her kimono and flung it against the wall. She went to the other side of the room and shrugged into the coat Christian had sent her over in, needing to feel closer to him.  
  
"I don't need you anymore!" Satine raged. "All my life you've said I was only worth what someone would pay for me! But Christian loves me." She looked at him, pleading for Harold to understand with her eyes. "He loves me, Harold. He loves me." She got a soft look in her eye that no amount of acting talent could of produced. "And that means everything." She was gathering confidence now, her love making her an unstoppable force to be reckoned with. "We going away from you, away from the Duke, away from the Moulin Rouge!" she finished triumphantly. She glared at Harold, a defiant look in her eyes that read: Just you try and stop me.  
  
Harold looked at his little sparrow. His darling, his diamond.  
  
"Then God's speed." He said slowly.  
  
Satine tilted her head, as if surprised Harold hadn't put up more of a fight. She was, after all, his Sparkling Diamond. She looked almost hurt.  
  
But Satine was not stupid. Seeing her opportunity, she seized it.  
  
"Thank you, Harold."  
  
Harold motioned for Marie to go to Satine. "Help her pack, Marie. God knows she can't fold to save her life."  
  
Marie had been watching him carefully, and stiffened at his choice of words. Nevertheless, she loved Satine, and would do anything to help her. She nodded, and went to where Satine was standing, and folded up a moss-colored velvet dress.  
  
Satine went to Harold and took his hands. She took a shuddery breath. "I'm doing the right thing, Harold." Her expression was troubled. She was looking for his approval.  
  
He squeezed her hands. "Yes, gosling. You are doing to right thing."  
  
Satine shone forth a radiant smile and nodded. "Yes. I am." she pulled her hands away and went to where Marie was, eager to leave the place that been her home for years.  
  
"Marie," started Harold. "Help her dress." He looked at Satine. "Darling, wear your blue wool. It's getting chilly out."  
  
Satine nodded. "And my blue wool is so flattering."  
  
"How could it not be on you, kitten?" he started to the door, determined to leave before he got emotional.  
  
"Harold?"  
  
He turned around.   
  
Satine ran across the room and hurtled herself into his arms. She buried her face into the crook of his neck. Harold stroked her hair.  
  
She was leaving the only father she had ever known, the guiding force she had so cherished. She knew she owed him her life, for without him she would have surely died on the streets.  
  
More than gratitude, she did truly love him.  
  
"I'm going to miss you." She whimpered.  
  
"And I will miss you, my sparrow." He said. Satine lifted her head and looked at him with a tear-streaked face. Harold wiped a tear away. "Don't you cry, now. Smile for me." Satine sniffled and obediently favored him with a smile. "That's my girl. You be a good girl." Satine nodded, and hugged him again. "Ah, ch‚rie, this isn't good-bye forever. Soon, I'll see you again and we'll laugh over this whole little drama you're creating."  
  
"Yes. We'll laugh." Satine repeated. She stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. She drew away from him. "Goodbye." she said, the words sounding hollow and foreign in her mouth.  
  
"Goodbye." Harold walked out the room, never looking back. He did not want to see his darling leave.  
  
Satine watched him leave and bit her lip to keep herself from crying. She felt Marie's soft, cool hand take her elbow.   
  
"You're goin' ta catch a chill standin' there in nothin' but y'underthings. Here's your dress."  
  
Marie pulled off the coat and put it on top of the suitcase she had been packing. She took the blue wool Harold had suggested and held it out.  
  
Satine stepped into the dress and pulled it up. She slid her arms into the sleeves, and felt Marie start buttoning it up.  
  
She looked towards her suitcase, which was now a carpetbag and a suitcase. She heard Marie growl behind her. "You should be takin' a trunk, with you goin' away an' all. Takin' but the bare essentials."  
  
"I'll be fine, Marie." Satine said a lot more calmly than she felt.  
  
Marie finished with the buttons and moved to admire Satine in the dress.  
  
"Blue looks so lovely on you." She said appreciatingly, smoothing the skirt down. As quickly as she smiled, she frowned. "Your hair is a mess."   
  
Satine rolled her eyes. "I have no time for my hair, Marie. I have to go." She whined.  
  
"You're not leaving here with your hair like that." Marie said obstinately.  
  
Satine made a face. "Marie."  
  
"Sit." She ordered.  
  
Sighing, Satine sat down in her vanity chair. Marie untangled the clip that had once held up her hair and began to gently run the brush through it.  
  
"You're going to be fine, girl. Don't you start getting doubts."  
  
Satine shook her head. "I'm not. This is right, Marie. I know it is."  
  
"You keep thinking that, girl. No matter what happens."  
  
Satine looked at the mirror to see Marie, who was pulling her hair halfway up with a silver clip. "I will."  
  
Marie finished, and hurried to Satine's closet. "The ermine will go well with that ... or the mink ... the rabbit, maybe?" she turned to look at her. "While I'm looking, wash your face. Your make-up's everywhere."  
  
Satine dutifully took a washcloth and wet it, then moved it over her face. She took a towel and dried it off, then went back to where Marie was in the closet.  
  
She put a hand on Marie's arm. "Thank you, Marie. For everything."  
  
"Ah, lovey. No matter. Here, put this on." She handed her an ermine stole. "It's cold out, and this will keep you warm."  
  
Satine allowed Marie to put it around her shoulders.  
  
"And your kid gloves- in the drawer-" Marie whirled away to find them.  
  
"Marie-"  
  
"Here they are, hold out your hands. Good girl." Satine slid into the gloves.  
  
"Marie, I must go."  
  
Marie gave her the look. "Not without a hat. "  
  
"Marie." Satine pleaded. "He's waiting."  
  
Marie stopped and looked at the girl that had been in her care for years. "I know, dearie."  
  
Satine put her arms around Marie. "I'll miss you, Marie."  
  
"Don't you dare cry! Your eyes will get all red." Marie patted her back. "I'll miss you too, lovey."  
  
Satine took a deep breath and looked around. Her eyes stopped on her little bird.  
  
"Oh- Libby!" she cried. She ran to the cage. "Goodbye, my darling- Maman's going away now. Grandm‚re will take of you." Satine turned to Marie. "You will watch Liberty for me, won't you?"  
  
Marie nodded. "Yes." She went to the door, and looked in both directions before carefully hissing: "Chocolat!"  
  
Immediately, the big man appeared. Marie jerked her head to indicate for him to come.  
  
He cleared the hallway in a few short strides, entering the room. He picked up the suitcase and the carpetbag.  
  
"Go now. It's almost dawn. If you hurry, you can make the first train." Marie instructed.  
  
Satine grabbed Christian's coat, then reached out her arms and took another quick hug before leaving. "Good-bye, Marie."  
  
"Good-bye yourself! Go on, now! Scoot!"  
  
Satine looked around before stealing down the hall with Chocolat.  
  
Marie watched her leave, and sighing, retreated back into Satine's boudoir.  
  
Harold was waiting.   
  
Marie turned and gasped, a hand thrown to her heart. "Lord almighty, Harold! You'll give one a heartattack with your sneaking around."  
  
"She's gone?"  
  
Marie nodded. "She just left."  
  
Harold nodded slowly. "It's for the best."  
  
"We didn't tell her." Marie accused.  
  
"It can't be helped now."  
  
"What will we say in the morning?" she asked.  
  
Harold smiled. "That Mademoiselle Satine is feeling sick and is sleeping in, and when we go to check her- say around noon- we'll find her gone."  
  
Marie nodded again. "I'm happy for her."  
  
Harold put a hand on her shoulder. "I am too, Marie. I am too."  
  
~*~  
  
As Satine and Chocolat crept through the darkened streets of Montmartre, she felt the cold grip of fear. What if the Duke does catch up with us? What if we are making a big mistake?  
  
Chocolat was fast, and Satine was riding on the wings of urgency and love, and together they made it to Christian's building in record time.  
  
Satine went up the stairs slowly. What if I'm was wrong? Am I stupid for putting both me and Christian in danger for a whim?  
  
Just before she turned and ran back down the stairs and to the Moulin Rouge, Chocolat had knocked and the door was thrown open by an anxious Christian.  
  
At the sight of his worried face, all of Satine's doubts melted. I've been gone for a half an hour and he's scared for me!  
  
Into his arms she flew, all her worries disappearing as he swept her up in his embrace.  
  
This is right.  
  
Christian kissed her, then pulled away and looked her over. "Are you alright?" he asked nervously.  
  
Satine nodded ecstatically. "I'm fine, Christian."  
  
Chocolat put the suitcase and carpetbag down with more noise and movement then necessary to make sure they remembered that he was there.  
  
Christian looked towards Chocolat, keeping his arm around Satine protectively.  
  
Words failed Christian as he looked at Chocolat. "Thank you." He said simply. Reaching into his pocket, he handed him a mangled fold of bills.  
  
Chocolat pushed it away, shaking his head. "No."  
  
Christian pushed it at him again.  
  
Chocolat shook his head again. "No."  
  
Defeated, Christian looked at Satine for help.  
  
Satine took the bills and handed them to Chocolat. "Take them, Chocolat. Please."  
  
Chocolat touched a hand to his chest. "It was my pleasure, Mademoiselle Satine."  
  
Satine's face softened. "Oh, Chocolat," she said quietly. She stood on tiptoe and pecked him on his cheek.  
  
Chocolat smiled. "Behave, Mademoiselle."  
  
Then, almost as if he had never been there, he was gone.  
  
Satine dropped her wrap, and his coat, on the foot of the bed. She handed him back the money. She gave him a glance that seemed to say: 'What now?'   
  
He returned the glance.  
  
"I made it." She said slowly. Christian nodded.   
  
Satine giggled happily. "I made it! I'm free!" She threw her arms around Christian's neck and kissed him happily.  
  
Christian smiled at her joy. His own suitcase was small compared to her oversized one, this he noticed as he almost tripped over them.  
  
"The first train to Calais is at dawn." He informed her.  
  
She nodded. "So that gives us, what, forty-five minutes."  
  
"Well, more or less thirty so we can buy tickets and get our luggage stored-" he was silenced by a gloved finger to his lips.  
  
"Don't worry so much." She whispered, leaning in for a kiss.  
  
He pulled back. "I don't worry too much," he said obstinately. Satine looked at him, an amused expression on her face, as if she was waiting for him to come to his senses. "Alright, maybe I worry a little."  
  
He put a hand on her shoulder to pull her close. She flinched.  
  
"What?" he asked.   
  
"Oh, nothing." She replied carelessly, biting her lip.   
  
"What happened there?" Christian asked more forcefully.  
  
Satine slid out of his grasp with practiced ease. "Nothing happened, Christian."  
  
He stared at her for a minute. Satine felt a prickle of guilt as she turned her back to him and sat down on his bed. She instantly became enthralled with his coverlet and started tracing the pattern.  
  
Christian watched her for a moment before moving closer and sitting behind her. He kissed where he had hurt her gently.  
  
"Why won't you let me in, Satine?" he breathed.  
  
She turned to him, a puzzled look on her face. "Whatever are you talking about?"  
  
"Something happened to you there," he indicated to her shoulder. "Yet you won't tell me what. You claim to love me, but you shut me out."  
  
"That's not fair, Christian." Satine said, bristling. "You know I love you."  
  
"And you know I love you. Why won't you talk to me?"  
  
Satine got up, sighing, and walked to the window.  
  
"I won't tell you because I love you."  
  
Christian was right behind her. "What happened there, Satine? What happened earlier tonight?"  
  
Satine turned around and looked deep into his eyes. "He ... he hurt me." Her voice had dropped down so that he could hardly hear it.  
  
Christian's eyes narrowed and his breath was drawn in through his teeth, making it sound like a hiss. "How?"  
  
Satine had already returned to her view of Montmartre. "How did he hurt you?"  
  
Satine shrugged noncommittally. "I shouldn't have said anything." She muttered, berating herself.  
  
"No!" Christian jumped at the chance to make her see. "You should. You should tell me these things, Satine." He cupped her face with his hands. His hands were warm, and her cheeks were still cold from the night air. "No one is ever going to hurt you again. I promise." He swallowed. "I'll die first."  
  
Satine looked at him carefully. His eyes were so truthful, so earnest. She put her hands on his neck and looked at him with tears in her eyes.   
  
"No one has ever told me that." She shook her head. "No one has ever valued my life above their own."  
  
"I do," he vowed. "And I always will."  
  
Satine looked down in one last desperate attempt to shield Christian from the truth.   
  
"He tried to rape me." She whispered.  
  
"What?" Christian asked in horror.  
  
"He-"  
  
"No, I heard you, darling, I just don't believe it." He narrowed his eyes and put a protective hand on Satine's waist. "I will kill him." He swore.  
  
"He didn't. Chocolat got there and-and punched him."  
  
Christian pulled her closer. "Oh, my poor darling. My poor baby." He looked her over carefully, running his finger over her forehead, her eyebrows, her nose, her cheeks, her lips to make sure she was all in one piece.  
  
Satine closed her eyes. "I couldn't pretend anymore."  
  
"And never again. You'll never have to again, darling. Over my dead body."  
  
Satine shuddered. "Don't even say that."  
  
Christian was quiet for a moment. He walked to the window, then back again to the bed. "So, where should we go?"  
  
Satine looked at his inquisitively. "Calais...?"  
  
"That's it?" he asked as though he had just been told the moon was indeed made of green cheese. "You can go anywhere in the world and you want to go to Calais?"  
  
Satine raised a delicate eyebrow. "And where do you suggest?"  
  
"Anywhere we can get a ship from Calais to."  
  
"That's a help. Thank you ever so much."  
  
Christian sat at his writing table. Satine tilted her head, apparently deep in thought.  
  
"What about London?" she said after a few minutes.  
  
"London?" Christian squeaked.  
  
"London." She affirmed. She looked at him, her eyes shining. "I've never been there, but I've always wanted to." She looked at Christian. "You don't like it there?"  
  
He shrugged. "I- I don't mind." So what if my family lives there. Makes no difference. London is a big city. I'll never see them. And if it will make her happy, I'll do it.  
  
"-Christian?" she said in a tone that made him realize a few other 'Christian's had been said before that point. He snapped his head up. "Are you sure you don't mind? Because we can go somewhere else."  
  
He nodded. "It's fine, dearest."  
  
She promptly released a radiant smile, one that made Christian fall in love with her all the more.  
  
He would have been happy to gaze at her face for a while longer, but Satine let the smile slide and asked: "What time is it?"  
  
As she asked, she noticed that his desk was strangely bare. She studied it, and realized it looked odd because it was bereft of his typewriter. She looked at their pile of luggage to see if there was a typewriter case anywhere.  
  
There wasn't.  
  
Christian looked at his pocket watch- one of the few things his father had ever given him that had meant something to him. This watch had been his Great-grandfather's, crafted for him especially, passed on to his Grandfather, then to his Father, and on his last birthday before he had left, his father had given it to him.  
  
"Time to go." He said.  
  
Satine reached and got her stole, and put it around her shoulders. Christian put on his coat. He picked up his suitcase, shoved her carpet bag under the same arm, and then picked up her suitcase. He staggered to the door. "Coming?"  
  
Satine stood there, silently shaking with mirth. "I can take something, you know." She said, following him.  
  
"No, I've got it."  
  
Satine shrugged. "Have it your way."  
  
Going down the stairs, he groaned. "What do you have in here? Rocks?" Thinking on his choice of words, he shook his head. "Don't answer that."  
  
Satine giggled. "Marie was upset that I wasn't bringing a trunk."  
  
"A trunk?" he moaned.   
  
"No trunk." She replied. "Don't worry."  
  
They started down the cold, predawn streets of Montmartre. Satine shivered.  
  
"Have you ever noticed it's always coldest before sunrise?" she asked, pulling her wrap closer.  
  
Christian nodded. "One of nature's oddities. Then the sun rises and the cold melts away. It's like the calm before the storm, backwards."  
  
Satine quirked an eyebrow. "You're trying to confuse me, aren't you?"  
  
He turned and gave her his devastatingly handsome smile. "How'm I doing?"  
  
She swat at him with her hand. He laughed at her miss.  
  
"You're wretched." She pouted.  
  
"I can be much, much worse, sweetheart."  
  
She rolled her eyes. "Hooray."  
  
They walked a few minutes in silence, and then, just as Christian was sure his arms were going to fall off, he saw the Station.   
  
"Thank the Lord," he muttered under his breath. To Satine, "There it is."  
  
Satine felt the all-too-familiar tightness in her chest. She took a few deep breaths- or, at least attempted to- and swallowed hard. She placed a smile on her face and nodded. Christian smiled back, and turned around to continue walking towards their destination.  
  
Satine allowed herself a small cough. This is silly, she told herself firmly. You're just catching a little cold. STOP IT.  
  
Christian, ever the attentive, turned at the noise.  
  
"What's the matter?" he asked.  
  
She shook her head, smiling a real smile at his concern. "It's nothing, darling." He turned back; the Station was just across the street. "It's nothing." She told herself.  
  
She followed Christian, who walked right up to the desk. "Two first class tickets to Calais, and onwards to London." He said proudly.  
  
While the man behind the desk gave everything to him, Satine looked at him skeptically. Where on earth had he gotten the money for all this?  
  
Again, she scanned their luggage for any sign of his beloved typewriter. She had a sinking feeling that she knew where it was, and that she knew where he had gotten the money.  
  
Before she had enough time to ponder over how she was going to bring this up, he had turned to her happily, smiled, called a porter over, tagged their luggage, took her hand, and lead her to the train. He handed the man at the door their tickets, slipped him something, and was allowed to board.  
  
"What was that?" she hissed as their searched for their berth.  
  
"A little something to let us on so that we didn't freeze waiting to be let on. Aha, here it is." He opened the door and there it was: a small little room with a row of red-velvet seats along either wall, a nice big window, and a heavy curtain which had been pulled back. The window was letting in some milky light.  
  
Christian cast a sideways glance to Satine, eager for her approval. As if she had heard his unspoken plea, she smiled. "This is grand." She said, flouncing down onto one of the seats. She bounced up and down a few times, giggling as if she were a little girl. "And the seats are springy!"  
  
Christian shook his head and laughed at her. He went and sat next to her.  
  
"Are you happy?" he asked her seriously.  
  
She looked at him solemnly, cocking her head as she pondered over her answer.  
  
"I thought I was happy before." She bit her lip. "But now I know what real happiness is." Taking some more time, she nodded and grasped his hand. "Yes. Yes, I'm happy." She wrapped her free arm around him and held him tight. "I'm happy. You make me happy." She closed her eyes in bliss, pressing her cheek to his. "I love you." She whispered.  
  
Christian inhaled deeply, embracing her tighter. "I love you more." He said.  
  
She pulled away, an impish grin on her face. "Not possible."  
  
"Stranger things have happened." He said mysteriously.  
  
Satine yawned, covering her mouth with her hand.  
  
"Tired?" asked Christian.  
  
"Exhausted." She concurred.  
  
"Well then, you just lie down and go to sleep."  
  
Satine nodded, and yawned again. She leaned against him, putting her head on his shoulder and his back against his chest, and shut her eyes. Christian slid his arm around her waist, and she held onto his arm as if he were a stuffed animal to sleep with. Nuzzling her face into arm, she was instantly asleep.  
  
Christian chuckled. Poor darling was exhausted, and he had her up and traipsing about in the middle of the night.  
  
He ran a finger over the roundness of her cheek, rosy as a child's and smooth as silk. She was quite the beauty. It had not all been a marketing device on Zidler's part.  
  
He pondered over his luck. It seemed just a little while ago that he had left London to Paris, and come to his little flat. He had known Satine for precious little time.  
  
But I feel like I've known her forever, he thought. How clich‚ is that?  
  
To think that the stunningly gorgeous, remarkably talented and totally unreachable Satine was here, running away with him because she loved him.  
  
She really did.  
  
And he loved her, with all his heart and soul. And by God, they would have to kill him first before he let them do anything to her, or try to take her away.  
  
"No one will ever hurt you, love." He whispered, fingering her silver clip. "I promise."  
  
As if she had heard his words, she snuggled in closer, sighing sleepily.  
  
Sighing himself and feeling quite content, Christian leaned back into the red velvet seats. They had made a clean getaway, and he wouldn't have to worry until at least tomorrow evening. Everything was going to be alright.  
  
*~*  
  
Christian woke up a little while later to hear a slight knocking at his door and the strange, irregular motion of a train moving. He yawned. "Come in!" he called.  
  
An official-looking man walked in. "Tickets, s'il vous plait." Christian rubbed his eyes and slowly moved out from under Satine, lowering her to the seat. She groaned and rolled over so that she faced the wall.  
  
Christian reached into his coat pocket and gave the tickets to him.  
  
He read them over, marked something on them, nodded, and handed them back to Christian. "Bon journ‚e, Monsieur. Et Madame." He added, when he saw Satine sitting up, bewildered.  
  
The official left and Christian closed the door. Satine stretched her arms above her head, a habit she had after sleeping when she was well-rested, Christian had noticed, and yawned, her gloves still on. A hand reached up and patted her hair absent-mindedly.  
  
"Good morning." Christian said. Satine nodded.  
  
"Good morning." She stretched again. "What time is it?"   
  
Christian flipped out his watch. "Quarter after nine," he announced.  
  
Satine nodded again. She smiled, looking embarrassed. "I hate to say this, but..." she trailed off.  
  
"Yes?" Christian prompted. Years of keeping her thoughts hidden has done this girl no good, he thought.  
  
"I'm famished." She finished.  
  
"Is that all?" Christian asked. Satine nodded. "Well then," he said, holding out his hand. "Let's feed you!"  
  
The sojourned through the many cars of the train, in vain attempt to find the dining car. At half past nine, they were still searching.  
  
"Does this train ever end?" asked Satine, slightly out of breath.  
  
"Oh, come now. It's an adventure!"  
  
Satine sniffed. "Adventure my foot, Christian. This is ridiculous, and I'm starving." As if on cue, her stomach rumbled.  
  
At that moment, another official-looking man appeared, and Christian called him over. "Excuse me," he asked. "Where would the dining car be?"  
  
The man looked over both Christian and Satine, taking in his threadbare clothes and Satine's fine dress, taking special notice of her curves. Satine fidgeted under his glance.  
  
The man pointed in the direction from where they had came. "Five cars down that way." He said.  
  
Satine poked Christian in the ribs. "See? I told you."  
  
"You did no such thing." Christian retorted. Satine replied by sticking her tongue out at him, when Christian tried, he failed miserably because he was laughing too hard.  
  
The man looked at them skeptically. "I assume you're traveling first class, Madame?" he asked.  
  
Satine put on a serious face, drawing herself to her full height, which was quite impressive. "Would a lady of my breeding travel anything but?"  
  
"And the gentleman?"  
  
Christian bit his lip to contain his laughter. Satine looked down her nose at the man, looking the very image of a stern and haughty lady of culture. "You mean my husband? But of course. You, on the other hand, should learn your place. Recognize and not question your passengers." Satine switched to sarcastic sweetness. "Thank you ever so much for your help."  
  
She took Christian's hand and turned around, starting to walk through the cars in search of food.  
  
She didn't stop until she had reached the dining car, where she slid into a chair with the grace of a princess.  
  
Christian sat down in front of her, looking at her wide-eyed.  
  
Satine ignored her, hungrily scanning the menu. When the waiter arrived, she wasted no time in ordering herself some tea, French toast, and bacon. She looked at Christian. "What do you want, darling?"  
  
Christian ordered a coffee, and continued to look at Satine soulfully.  
  
"What?" she asked. "Did I grow a second head or something?"  
  
"You called me your husband." He said quietly.  
  
She nodded. "Rolled off the tongue rather nicely, didn't you think?"  
  
"Did you mean it?"  
  
Satine looked at Christian, and she was dimly aware that she probably had the same love-struck face that he had on her own face. She nodded.  
  
"I mean, I know it was forward of me..."  
  
He took her hand across the table. "Oh, darling, no. No." he cast a furtive glance around the near empty car, before getting down on one knee next to Satine's chair. "Will you marry me?"  
  
Satine's face broke out into a beam, and she giggled with delight. She threw her arms around him, winding up on the floor most ungracefully. "What kind of a question is that?" she said whilst she embraced him.  
  
"Is that a yes?"  
  
"Oh, of course it is, you silly thing!"  
  
Awkwardly, they both climbed back up to their chairs, casting furtive glances around to see who had seen it. There was young woman with a nanny, a baby and a two small children, a boy and a girl, both which were playing hide and go seek. Both were lovely, with golden hair and bright blue eyes. The baby was quiet and cooed and gurgled often and loud enough to reach Christian and Satine.  
  
At the sight, Satine became transfixed. "Oh, look." She whispered reverently. She looked at the children esuriently, as if drinking in the sight of them. She took note of the little boy's pants and little button-down starched shirt and shoes. ("Just like a little grown-up." Satine had exclaimed) The little girl had on a pink dress with little pantaloons that peeped out from under the dress, with charming little shoes and white stockings. The nanny that chased them wore a stiff dark blue dress and an apron, her hair piled up on her head. Satine frowned at her.  
  
As if in a trance, Satine stood up and started towards them. Christian turned in his chair, but knew not to follow her. This was something she would do alone.  
  
Satine crept to the woman quietly, her eyes stuck on the baby. It had on a little white batiste gown with pink ribbons laced through it, and fine Irish lace on the cuffs and collar.  
  
The woman turned. She was quite lovely, with golden hair like the children and emerald-colored eyes, and wearing a fashionable green muslin dress. She smiled weakly at Satine.  
  
"Good morning." She said good-naturedly.  
  
"Good morning." Whispered Satine. "I know this is rather forward of me, but- may I hold her?"  
  
The woman looked somewhat startled, and looked down at the baby, who gurgled and waved a tiny fist around. She looked back up Satine, preparing to act indignant, call for the nanny and her children, and leave.  
  
But something about the woman's eyes touched her. She honestly had no other motive but to hold the baby. Her face softened, and she nodded, holding the baby out.  
  
Satine took the baby in her arms and drew her close, smiling and waving a finger in front of her face. As she rocked and hummed happily, she looked up at the mother. "What's her name?"  
  
"Ella Catherine." The mother announced proudly.  
  
"Ella." Satine cooed. "Elllllllllllllllla. What a beautiful name, for such a beautiful little girl, yes it is! Oh, aren't you the most precious thing ever." She looked up at the mother. "How old is she?"  
  
"Six months."  
  
Satine smiled. "A summer baby, just like me..." She looked back towards Christian, who was smiling. She grinned back. He turned back and opened a paper he had bought.  
  
The woman craned her neck to see who she had looked at.  
  
"Who's that?" she asked.  
  
Satine smiled. "My husband." She said. Just a small lie, she consoled herself. It's almost true.  
  
The waiter came and began to set down food at the table. Satine handed the Ella back to her mother.  
  
"Oh, thank you so much."  
  
The woman smiled warmly. "Think nothing of it, dear. What a pity you have no children of your own. You're wonderful with them." Looking towards her children, she called for them. "Timothy! Lottie! Come eat your breakfast!"  
  
The children scrambled to the table, the nanny not far behind. The boy- Timothy- looked up at Satine and smiled. She smiled back, and turned to walk back to her own table.  
  
She slid back into her seat and sighed. Christian put his newspaper down.   
  
"Have fun?" he asked, without sarcasm.  
  
"Christian, how do you feel about ... children?" Satine asked uncertainly.  
  
Christian looked at her and laughed softly. "Are you worried about that, sweet?" he smiled at her concerned expression. "I love children, Satine."  
  
Satine let her shoulders relaxed, and the sun came out again. "Good. I'm glad. So do I."  
  
The waiter arrived with their food, which Satine scarfed down. Christian watched her with amusement as he sipped his coffee.  
  
"What? I told you I was hungry." she said innocently.  
  
"You forgot to mention that you might gobble me up if I didn't feed you."  
  
Satine shook her head. "You're horrible, Christian. Downright terrible."  
  
Christian looked down at her hand, which was resting on the table. He smiled ruefully. "I'm sorry I don't have a ring for you." He said.  
  
She shrugged. "The ring doesn't matter, Christian. I don't need one."  
  
"Yes, you do." He looked at her forcefully, then gripped her hand. "You need a ring."  
  
Satine looked at him strangely. What was the great and grand importance of a ring?  
  
She looked into his eyes and found her answer. The ring wasn't for her sake, but for his. He felt he needed to give her a token of their love for it to be real.  
  
She squeezed his hand back. "Alright. I need a ring. I demand a ring. Give me a ring, Christian."  
  
He chuckled. "Spoiled."  
  
She shrugged again. "Can't help it."  
  
"Bratty."  
  
Satine looked mock-shocked. "Now that was uncalled for."  
  
Across the dining room, the mother got up. She took Timothy's hand with her free one and started to leave. When she got to the doorway, she turned to see the young woman and her husband joking around. They seemed to be squabbling, but then the man laughed and took her hand, kissing her palm.  
  
The mother smiled and continued on her way. Young people in love were the best kind.  
  
~*~  
  
"Next stop, Calais. Prochain ville, Calais. Next stop, Calais!" The Conductor walked around announcing.  
  
Satine looked up from the paper she had been reading of Christian's. Christian was asleep, his head in her lap.  
  
She gently shook his shoulder. "Darling... darling, time to wake up."  
  
Christian groaned and moved his shoulders away. Satine leaned down closer to him. "Rise n' shine." she whispered.  
  
Christian opened his eyes. "You have bacon breath." he said.  
  
She pulled away. "We're in Calais." she announced, just as the Conductor came back their way. "Prochain ville, Calais! Next stop, Calais."  
  
Christian nodded. "So I heard."  
  
Twenty minutes later, the train pulled up at the station in Calais. Christian stood up too fast, and was thrown into the opposite wall as the train shuddered to a stop.  
  
Satine suppressed a giggle.  
  
They got off the train, and waited in the cool sea breeze that coastal Calais offered for their luggage. When the two suitcases and carpet bag appeared, a porter graciously surfaced and offered to find them a cab. With a sigh, Christian nodded.  
  
Satine became suspicious yet again. As she was ushered into the horse-drawn cab, she looked at Christian, who was paying the porter. The wad of bills he had was slimmer, but still impressively thick. Where had it all come from?  
  
Christian got into the cab and told the driver to take them to the docks. They started forwards. Christian leaned back in his seat, and grinned lazily at Satine.   
  
She, on the other hand, sat erect and glared at him.  
  
"What?" he asked. "What did I do?"  
  
"Christian, where did you get all this money?" she asked without shame.  
  
Christian looked down at his hands. "You shouldn't worry about such things, dearest."  
  
She took his chin in her hand, forcing her to look at her. "Tell me." she demanded.  
  
"I sold the typewriter." he said hollowly, without emotion.  
  
Satine closed her eyes and allowed herself to absorb the impact. Christian loved his typewriter. Taking it away from him would be like taking music away from her. Was he crazy?  
  
"Are you crazy?" she inquired politely.  
  
He shrugged noncommittally. "We needed the money more."  
  
Satine leaned back, dizzy. "You better go un-sell it, Christian. That typewriter was- is- your life."  
  
Christian shook her urgently. "No, my love. No. You're my life. And you mean more to me than anything else in the world."  
  
Satine looked at him, tears stinging her eyes. She still wasn't able to comprehend that he loved her enough to do anything for her- even die for her.  
  
She looked out the window. They were at the docks. "Oh, look!" she exclaimed, pointing out the window at all the boats.  
  
Christian smiled at her na‹vet‚. "I see." he said placatingly.  
  
The cab came to a halt, and they climbed out. While Christian paid the driver and went to get their bags, Satine looked at her surroundings with wide eyes.  
  
"Christian, look at the big ships!" she cried, pointing. Christian's face broke out into a grin. When she was like this, there was not a trace of the `Sparkling Diamond'. No, this was entirely herself.  
  
The cab drove away, and Christian pulled out their tickets. "Alright, darling, we need to find the `Morning Glory'."  
  
Satine wrinkled her nose. "We're sailing on a ship called the `Morning Glory'?"  
  
Christian nodded.   
  
"Ew." she said simply.  
  
"Snob." Christian laughed, taking her hand.  
  
He walked up to a deckman, and asked him where they could find the boat. The man, who smelled strongly of fish and was smiling way more than was necessary at Satine, pointed to where a tiny little boat was anchored.  
  
It was tiny as tiny as it appeared, Christian noticed, once you got close. When you were by all those huge ships, it seemed tiny in comparison, but it was really a nice sized little boat.  
  
Christian got their luggage sorted out with the porter, slipped him a few francs, then turned to Satine.  
  
"We should board," he announced. "The boat leaves in an hour."  
  
Satine nodded and allowed Christian to lead her to the bridge.  
  
Because it was a small passenger boat, it would go incredibly slowly, allowing them time to spend the night on the boat and arrive in London the next morning.  
  
Satine boarded the ship, taking everything in with wide eyes. The settings were nothing new- opulent carpets, wallpaper so lovely it bordered on real art, shining wood floors- but the whole experience was.  
  
Christian had been taking voyages on ships for most of his life. The only joy he took in it was the joy Satine derived.  
  
A porter led them to their room, their luggage in tow.  
  
The room was good-sized, with light and dark blue wall paper and a light blue coverlet on the bed, dark cherry wood furniture and a window.  
  
Satine crossed straight to the window, opening it and sticking her head out. She inhaled the salty air, taking in as much as she could. Her lungs contracted painfully as she did so, and she coughed, silently willing herself to stop. She coughed again, and took a slow breath. Her lungs loosened, and her breathing became normal again.  
  
She felt Christian's fingers on her shoulders, pulling her back. He had just barely missed her little `episode'. She stepped away from the window.  
  
"What are you trying to do, push your fianc‚e out?" she teased.  
  
He grinned good-naturedly. "But of course. I thought you might enjoy a little swim with the fishies."  
  
She rolled her eyes. "More than anything."  
  
"It's freezing out there." Christian said, returning to seriousness.  
  
She shook her head. "No, it's not. It's chilly."  
  
"Satine, there's snow on the dock. There's snow everywhere. It's cold."  
  
"Baby." she taunted.  
  
Christian shook his head at her, moving over to his suitcase. He slung it up onto the bed and flicked it open. Picking up a pile of two shirts, he went to a draw. He opened it and dropped them in. He went back to the suitcase, took out a few pairs of pants, and put them in the drawer.  
  
Satine watched him with curiosity. All of his clothes fit into one drawer, with space left.  
  
He looked up at her and smiled weakly. "I'm a light packer."  
  
"I'm not."   
  
"I noticed." he said with a grimace. "I lugged them around all morning."  
  
He pushed the drawer in. "I'm done."  
  
Satine smiled. "Good. That leaves one-two-three-four-five drawers for me. And the closet." she sighed. "I hope it will be enough."  
  
Christian shook his head again, and sat down on the bed, swinging his legs up and reclining back.  
  
Satine wagged a finger at her. "Uh-uh. My side of the bed."  
  
"No way." he said. "Mine."  
  
She smirked. "Then I guess we'll have to share."  
  
He rolled her eyes. "Great."  
  
Satine moved over to her suitcase, putting it up on the bed and opening it carefully. She slowly pulled out a lilac dress that fell limply over her arm as she crossed to the closet and put it in. Another trip back to the suitcase; this time a green velvet was extracted.   
  
Christian watched with mild interest. It was quite interesting how many dresses Satine had fit into that suitcase.  
  
Just when Christian was sure the suitcase had to be empty and the closet was full, Satine pulled out a gray woolen skirt which she placed in a drawer, along with a plenitude of multi-colored blouses. A long woolen winter coat came out next, followed by another one in a different color. A few scarves, two shawls. She finally shut the suitcase and placed it under the bed.  
  
Christian cleared his throat to get her attention, and she looked up expectantly.  
  
"We're staying here one night."  
  
She continued to look at him as if to say, go on.  
  
"So?"  
  
"You're just going to have to pack it up tomorrow."  
  
She sighed. Men had no comprehension of how to take care of clothes. "They'll air out tonight, Christian."  
  
He raised a quizzical eyebrow. "They're been packed for a couple of hours."  
  
She sighed. "Forget it, Christian."  
  
She then picked up the carpet bag. First out: a white silk, barely-there nightgown. A sheer white overthrow. A white kimono with red flowers. Then an odd one, a cotton nightgown with respectable sleeves and neckline, bordered with lace and tied with a white satin ribbon. Neglig‚e. Satins and silks of all different colors, with lace or feathers or fur.  
  
Satine was blushing furiously. "What was Marie thinking?" she asked aloud. "I didn't pack it." she explained quickly. Christian shrugged.  
  
Some slips came out, and a few corsets, all embroidered. A few pairs of gloves, some pairs of silk stockings, some sheer stockings ("Shockings." as Christian named them), some garters. Some pretty handkerchiefs, all adorned with lace or little flowers. One had a little red windmill.   
  
Then came the shoes. Christian again was shocked as to how many things this woman had managed to bring along with her for having but a moment's notice.  
  
"Are there bottoms to those bags or are they just never-ending?"  
  
Most of them were black, all different styles, ("You can never have too many pairs of black shoes.") some were white, a pair of green heels, a pair of fine leather boots, some red, some blue. Dark gray and light gray. And then there were the bedroom slippers- black with marabou feathers and white with marabou and a glittering paste buckle, each with heels five inches high.  
  
"Is that it?" Christian asked, wide-eyed.  
  
"Yes," Satine said forlornly. "That's it."  
  
"That's incredible." he breathed.  
  
"And you're delightfully ignorant in the ways of women." She said, sitting down next to him and kissing him. "Which is good. I'd be jealous if you were."  
  
She stood up again, going back to the carpet bag. "No more!" Christian protested weakly.  
  
"Just jewelry and my toiletries. Perfume and the like."  
  
Christian nodded. "So you're done now."  
  
Satine nodded. "If only I didn't have to repack it in the morning. I don't know how." She flashed a brilliant smile. "I'll worry about it tomorrow."  
  
There was noise outside the door now, they could hear people walking around. Some people were calling to one another in the halls.  
  
"Bitsy! Bitsy, how nice to see you again." one woman shouted.  
  
Satine smiled conspiratorially at Christian, sitting down next to him and holding a finger up to her lips. "Shhh."  
  
Bitsy replied: "Oh, Martha! How have you been, dear? It's been far too long."   
  
"Grand, Bitsy. And how are you and Charles?"  
  
"We're fine." Bitsy responded. "And you and Ferguson?"  
  
Martha chuckled. "Fergie and I just came back from Greece. All those rocks interest him, but I met up with Laura and James Moriaty. Laura hated it there too."  
  
"You poor dear." Bitsy sympathized. "Come, my room's down this way."  
  
Bitsy must have led Martha away, for the chatter stopped.  
  
Satine smiled at Christian like a schoolgirl caught whispering. "That was wicked of us."  
  
"We couldn't help but overhear, darling." Christian pointed out.  
  
"That's my horrid habit," Satine confessed. "I'm an atrocious person who can eavesdrop better than any one person should be able to."  
  
Christian patted her hand. "That's okay. We all have our faults."  
  
A horrible noise sounded, making Satine jump and cover her ears and Christian wince. "What is that?" Satine asked.  
  
"The ship's claxon. That means the ship's leaving." He grinned. "You don't want to miss this."  
  
Satine was anxious to get up on deck and totally forgot about her wrap. Had it not been for practical Christian with his anti-cold ways, she would have frozen up there.  
  
But he had brought it for her, and put it around her shoulders. Men were throwing ropes to the men on the docks, and the claxon sounded again as they started to pull away.   
  
"We're moving!" Satine exclaimed, delighted.  
  
"Now's when you say goodbye." He instructed.  
  
"But we don't know anyone." She protested.  
  
"Doesn't matter. You wave anyway."  
  
She obediently waved to the people on the dock. "Goodbye! Goodbye!"  
  
Everyone on the `Morning Glory' was- waving goodbye to strangers and friends alike.  
  
When they got out of the harbor and into the channel, a strong wind blew up. Satine shivered, and coughed. Christian was instantly concerned. "Are you alright?"  
  
Satine shook her head and smiled. "I'm fine. We should go and change for dinner. See?" she pointed to a little man standing by the door, preparing the blow a bugle.   
  
Christian nodded and followed her back down to their room.  
  
~*~  
  
Satine finished piling her hair on her head, and studied the effect. Her dark blue satin contrasted dramatically with her skin tone. The single sapphire pendant settled perfectly between her collar bones, just the right length for the neckline. The sleeves draped over her upper arms, leaving her shoulders bare. She turned, admiring the bustle on the back. This was a beautiful dress. She also noticed the small bruise she had on her right shoulder. She swabbed some face powder over it, hoping it would make it disappear. True to it's advertisement, it did.  
  
She dabbed some more perfume on, and slid on a sapphire ring on her ring finger. She studied it, feeling a bit guilty. They were lying, saying that they were married.   
  
What's with the sudden development of a conscience, Satine? She asked herself.  
  
It wasn't much of a stretch, saying they were married. After all, they were engaged.  
  
Engaged.  
  
As in, going to be married. Betrothed. Promised.  
  
Engaged.  
  
She giggled at her reflection. She, Satine, was going to be married to who she was certain was the most wonderful man on earth.  
  
24 hours ago she had been rehearsing for a play, and smoothing over the mess Christian had made from his outburst with the Duke. She had been getting ready for her supper with the Duke.  
  
Satine shuddered, and willed herself to forget. She never wanted to think of that night ever again.  
  
She put on a pair of sapphire earrings. She looked in the mirror, smiling coquettishly. "You look mahvelous, dahlink." She bit back her laughter at her own foolishness.  
  
And then, all of the sudden, she felt the horrible tightening in her chest. She gripped at the handkerchief she had lying on the dresser top. She pushed it to her mouth, hoping to stifle the sound.  
  
Christian had left her to her own devices after she had said she needed to get dressed for supper. He had disappeared up on deck. She had supposed that he, like herself, was reflecting on how different their lives were now.  
  
She gagged into her handkerchief. Coughing and wheezing in the most unladylike fashion. Tears welled up in her eyes. Wouldn't this cough ever go away?  
  
~*~  
  
Up on deck, Christian sighed. It was nippy outside, but he didn't even want to be in there while Satine got dressed. While he was comfortable wearing what he had worn before, she had made him change, and while he had been changing, she was rifling through her dresses, holding each one up and asking which one he liked. All of them, he had replied. To that she had rolled her eyes and muttered `Men!' with a huff.  
  
He suddenly got a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. Satine needed him. NOW.  
  
~*~  
  
She thought back to what Marie did. She made her drink that bitter liquid in those tiny silver vials. Where were they now?   
  
Back home. Where you belong.  
  
She rifled through her jewelry bag, hoping that by some miracle there was something in there to stop this.  
  
And there it was. Practical Marie, having foreseen her need, had slipped in a few.  
  
Satine gratefully grasped the silver cruet and held it up, tilting her head and the bottle back. She swallowed the bitter fluid.  
  
Slowly, her breathing returned to normal. She coached herself for a minute. Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out.  
  
She looked down at the handkerchief in her hand. It was spotted with crimson. Satine grimaced. Where could she hide this?  
  
Satine looked around. There was no where to wash it out, the blood would tint the water red. There was only one thing she could do.  
  
Toss it out the porthole and into the sea.  
  
She glanced at the needlework in the corner. It was the one of the tiny red windmill.  
  
How ironic, she thought, that this would be the one I had to throw away.  
  
Satine pranced over the porthole and put her arm out, daintily releasing the handkerchief. It fluttered a bit before being sprayed by sea foam, then it landed in the water.  
  
Just as Satine had retracted her arm, the door flew open and a breathless Christian whirled in. He crossed the room in a few quick strides and took her forearms.  
  
"Are you alright?" he asked worriedly.  
  
Satine nodded. "I'm fine." She replied, a bit breathless herself. She studied Christian's anxious face. How did he know I was sick just a few minutes ago?  
  
Christian looked at her carefully. He could have sworn that something was wrong. What a load of nonsense. You're just paranoid. Get a hold of yourself, man!  
  
Without warning, Christian pulled her to him, wrapping his arms around her. Satine relaxed into his embrace, sighing happily. She felt so safe in his arms, and she loved his concern. She nuzzled her face into the softness of his worn white shirt, inhaling deeply his scent- a mix of soap from his shirt, paper, and something that was just Christian. A fragrance that was all his own.  
  
Christian held her closer, protecting her from unseen demons. He would never let anything ever hurt her again, he had sworn it to her. And to himself. They would harm her over his dead body. Literally.  
  
She pulled away, looking up at him.  
  
"I think we have to go."  
  
He groaned. "Do we have to?"  
  
Satine nodded affirmatively. "Yes. We must." She moved away entirely, pulling out a lacey shawl and throwing it over her shoulders.  
  
Sighing, Christian followed Satine out the door.  
  
~*~  
  
The dining room was full of people of wealth, all a glitter with ruby necklaces and diamond cuff links. Whereas Christian felt uncomfortable, Satine was right at home amongst the wealthy. She mingled quite well. Christian tried to escape to deck several times, the pressure of Satine's fingers on his arm kept him there. And the pleading look in her eyes. If it makes her happy, who cares? He reasoned.  
  
They were seated at a table with 10 other people. The captain sat at one end, the richest man on the ship at the other. The rest of the table were filled with industrialists and their wives; two pairs of Lords and Ladies; and a Russian Count and Countess.  
  
Everyone simply adored Satine, who was bright and bubbly as one could hope. Forever the social butterfly, she was flawless at entertaining people whose names she didn't know and holding their interest with nothing but a short little laugh.  
  
Christian, on the other hand, was not too thrilled to be sitting at a table full of the bourgeois people he had escaped from but a little while before. When spoke to, he was as polite and as civil as everyone expected him to be, but was silent otherwise.  
  
An hour and a half later, the men rose from their chairs. "Time for a brandy, I'd say!" one man announced heartily. They all offered to escort their women back to their rooms, which most declined. Christian stood up as well, motioning to Satine that he wanted to go.  
  
Satine smiled apologetically. "This has been a rather pleasant evening, ladies, but I am afraid that all this delightful conversation has made me a bit tired. Good night."  
  
A chorus of goodnights were thrown her away, and Christian was finally free.  
  
"That was the longest 90 minutes of my life."  
  
"You're overreacting."  
  
Their room was blissfully quiet after the chatter of the evening. Satine pulled off her shawl and smiled mischievously. "And what are we going to do for the rest of the evening?"  
  
Christian grinned back at her. "Oh, I can think of some things to do."  
  
"Anything interesting?" Satine teased.  
  
Christian crossed the distance between them, taking her into his arms and pressing his forehead to hers. "Well, I have this notion that we love one another..."  
  
"And?" Satine breathed.  
  
The rest was whispered into her ear, and she giggled madly.   
  
Yes, Christian had a good idea.  
  
~*~  
  
Christian opened his eyes and yawned. The porthole let in the sunlight. A clock on the nightstand said it was quarter to eleven.   
  
Next to him, Satine started to move around. She rolled over, trying to escape the light. Christian grinned wickedly and started to tickle her ribs.  
  
Satine was up very quickly. She yawned, causing Christian to do so once again. "Good morning." He said evenly.  
  
"You're horrible."  
  
He grinned. "I know." He pointed to the clock. "It's time to get up."  
  
"I'm guessing you're a morning person." she moaned, arching her back and yawning again. She stretched her arms as she had the morning before.  
  
He nodded. "Yeah."  
  
She shook her head. "I'm not."  
  
"I noticed."  
  
She smirked. "I will rise, but I will not shine."  
  
He pinched her cheek. "You always shine, darling."  
  
"Yeah, yeah, yeah. You say that now." She got up and slid into her kimono, groaning. "I've got to pack this all up."  
  
Christian smiled. "Told you not to unpack it all."  
  
"Oh, hush up." She put a thoughtful finger to her lip. "When do we dock?"  
  
"Noon."  
  
Satine shrieked. "I've only got an hour and fifteen minutes to get ready and pack!"  
  
~*~  
  
An hour an ten minutes later, Satine proudly announced that she was packed and ready to go. There was a commotion in the hallway again. People were eager to set foot in England.  
  
A porter came and took the luggage, and they got out to open air to cross the gangplank. The smile Satine had on was unremoveable. "I've never been to England." she told Christian excitedly.   
  
"I know." he replied. He squeezed her hand. "You've told me five times already."  
  
Satine made a face at him.  
  
"Now, we've still got a short train ride to London, darling." he said. Satine's smiled faltered.   
  
"We're still not there?" she asked, sounding a bit weary.  
  
He shook his head. "Not yet, my love."  
  
She sighed, putting her arms around his waist and leaning her head on her shoulder. "London is very far from Montmartre, isn't it?" she asked, slightly drowsily. Christian kissed her forehead. London wasn't very far, but that wasn't what she wanted to hear. "Yes, darling. Very far."  
  
She nodded. "Good."  
  
The gangplank finally ended, and they were officially in England. The porter with the luggage magically reappeared, and Christian hailed cab.  
  
Satine climbed up into the backseat. She could have leaned her head back and have been asleep in an instant, but she didn't for fear of wrinkling her white dress and coat. She did, however, remover her little white beret.  
  
Christian climbed in next to her. He studied her. "Are you feeling alright?" he asked.  
  
She forced a smile to her lips. She wouldn't tell him how tired she was, or the weight in her chest. She wouldn't mention how hard it was becoming for her to breathe, or how even walking tired her. No, he was worried enough already. He didn't need anything else to worry about.  
  
"I'm fine."  
  
No, she wouldn't tell him. It would all pass, and she would be fine once she went to sleep. After all, she thought with a smile, she hadn't gotten much sleep the night before. Yes, after a little cat nap, she'd be just fine.  
  
The train station looked exactly like the one in Montmartre, causing Satine do a double take in shock. This is either a very good sign or a very bad sign, she thought.  
  
They alighted from the cab. For once they wouldn't have to wait, the train was leaving in five minutes. They had barely enough to time to check their luggage and get into their berth before the train left.  
  
Satine curled up on the seat. This berth looked exactly the same as the one from before, but instead of red velvet seats this one had blue velvet. Satine didn't care. She was tired, and she was going to sleep. Just a little rest, and I'll be fine.  
  
Christian sat across from her. He had gotten another newspaper from heavens-knows-where and was now scanning it.   
  
Yes, it was a long way to London. Enough time to catch forty winks. And when I wake up, this cough will be gone.  
  
Doubts settled, Satine slipped into the land of Nod.  
  
~*~  
  
"Next stop, London. Next stop, London."  
  
Christian looked up from his paper, which he had read cover to cover three times. London.  
  
He looked out the window. Yup, there was London.  
  
He knelt down by Satine, gently shaking her. "Satine." he said softly. "Darling, it's time to wake up."  
  
She groaned. "I'm up."  
  
"We're almost there."  
  
Satine sat right up. "To London?"  
  
Christian nodded. "Yes."  
  
She sent forth a smile that put the sun to shame. "Finally." she complained good-naturedly.  
  
Satine produced a small mirror and anxiously checked her appearance. "Do I look alright?"  
  
Christian looked at her affectionately. "You look beautiful."  
  
Satine snorted. "I look like a wreck."  
  
"Never."  
  
Christian once again got up too fast and was thrown into a wall; this time Satine didn't bother to hide her amusement and burst out laughing.  
  
Christian dusted his coat off and smiled smarmily back at Satine.  
  
That short burst of laughter had left her breathless, and a hand to her throat was visible proof. Christian was at her side instantly. "Satine? Darling? What's the matter?"  
  
Satine cleared her throat and inhaled slowly. "I'm fine."  
  
The panicky look didn't leave Christian's eyes. "Dearest, are you sure?"  
  
Satine nodded, smiling. "I'm fine."  
  
Christian said no more, but he was concerned none the less. He attributed the little spell to her being tired from traveling, and tried to give it no more thought.  
  
At least he tried.  
  
~*~  
  
They got off the train with no further mishaps. Satine had vetoed the cab idea, saying she wanted to stretch her legs and walk around a bit. Christian protested, asking what they would do with their bags.  
  
Satine tilted her head. "We'll find a hotel, and leave them there."  
  
And since Christian was willing to do whatever Satine wanted, he gave in.  
  
The first little inn they saw was quaint. The woman who owned it, Mrs. Phillips, seemed nice, it wasn't that busy, and it served breakfast, lunch and dinner. Satine seemed pleased with the room they were offered, and they decided to take it.  
  
After putting their bags up in their room, Satine insisted again that she wanted to take a walk. Taking the scarf that Mrs. Phillips offered, Christian agreed. Satine, who seemed to be totally unaffected by the cold, pranced off down the street.  
  
"Christian, your family still lives here, don't they?" she blurted out.  
  
Christian stopped, looking startled. He slowly nodded.  
  
"That's why you didn't want to come here." she deduced.  
  
"I did too want to come here." he objected.  
  
She looked at him.  
  
"Don't lie. I know you came here because I wanted to."  
  
Christian sighed. "Yes. My family lives around here. Very close in fact."  
  
Satine sighed as well. "I'd like to meet them." Taking his arm, she snuggled into them. "What are they like?"  
  
"My father is a narrow-minded business man who is set in his ways. He's certain that white is white, and that black is black, and refuses to believe in any sort of gray."  
  
"What a lovely description."  
  
Christian ignored her. "My mother is... docile. She blindly adores my father and believes anything he says. I think the first argument they've had since they were married was about my leaving and his disowning me.  
  
"I have two brothers, Gregory and Thomas. Greg is two years younger than me and an underhanded sneak who is exactly like my father but twice as conniving. Thomas is only thirteen and isn't quite sure about anything yet. He's being influenced greatly by Greg.  
  
"And then I have my little sister, Annette. She's... uh... not like my mother. Reckless. A lot like me, actually. She's sixteen, and quite pretty. We've been fending off suitors since she was twelve. Smart too. Very clever. My father thinks of her as nothing but a silly piece of fluff whose only job is to be virtuous and married off, and that really hurts her. My mother wanted her to be mild-mannered and meek like every lady she knows, so she's a great source of disappointment for her as well. We've always been one another's favorite, because I didn't tease her about not being lady-like and she didn't tease me for being more interesting in books than in business."  
  
Satine watched Christian with wide eyes as he ripped off his recital. "I'm guessing you don't like your family very much."  
  
Christian shook his head.  
  
"Want to trade?"  
  
Christian looked up at her, interested. If Satine was willing to share, he wasn't about to stop her.  
  
"Tell me."  
  
Satine smiled dryly and started to talk.  
  
"My father was a brick-layer. He was English. He was the foreman, and we were very proud of him. He died when I was six when a scaffold fell on him. My mother was French. She was always very sick. But she was always very happy, even though times were really hard for her.  
  
"I had three sisters, one older and two younger. Odette was three years older, Genevieve was two years younger, and Lizbette was the baby. She was four years younger than me.  
  
"Odette was a great beauty. She was delicate and graceful. She was a dancer. She never walked, she glided, and never spoke, she trilled. She was very soft-spoken and gentle. She had the most beautiful golden hair, just like my father had. Golden hair and bright blue eyes.  
  
"Genevieve was my partner in crime. If I was in any mischief, so was Jenny. She was pretty in a coarser way. She had red hair like me, and it was curly too, but her hair was much lighter, almost orange, and always out of control. Odette or Maman braided it every morning, and by noon her hair was coming out. She had freckles too. But she was so sweet.  
  
"Lizbette was the baby, and was horribly spoiled. She was very frail, and was usually stuck in bed because Maman was afraid for her. She too hair blond hair, but hers was light, very light. She was beautiful child, and so darling.   
  
"My mother died when I was twelve, leaving us all alone in the world. We were sent from our village, Marisse, to an orphanage in Paris.  
  
"Odette disappeared one day. She came by to see me and Genevieve, and then went to see Lizbette, who was with the little ones. She told me that we should always stay together, and left. I never saw her again.  
  
"When I was thirteen and Lizbette was 9, diphtheria came to the orphanage. Genevieve and I were spared, but Lizbette, being very delicate and weak, caught it and was dead before the week was over.  
  
"When I was fourteen a well-dressed man walked into the office. He had a nicely tailored suit, and we all wondered who he was.  
  
"A little while later, the owner of the orphanage's wife, Madame Benoit, came out and picked me and three other girls to come in."  
  
Satine smiled ruefully. "I remember it all so clearly. The first one was Brigitte. She had the prettiest flaxen hair and emerald green eyes. She was but a tiny little thing, very small. Another one chosen was Antoinette, who had dark brown hair and hazel eyes. She was very smart. The last one was Estelle, who had midnight black hair and violet eyes. She was fierce and had a temper.  
  
"Mme Benoit told us that this man was going to take us away from the orphanage, and that we would go to a nice place.  
  
"The man's name was Harold Zidler."  
  
Satine stopped uncertainly. "I said goodbye to Genevieve and we left the next morning. It was then I realized that this was probably where Odette had gone.  
  
"But I never saw Odette. I saw my three friends- tiny Brigitte, smart Antoinette, impetuous Estelle- all fall victim to some horrid aspect of our new life.  
  
"First we were nothing but costume girls, but it wasn't very long before we made the graduation to dancing girls.  
  
"I was the only one who survived."  
  
Satine swallowed, and looked at Christian with pain in her eyes. He squeezed her arm.  
  
"I wrote to Genevieve a lot. I missed her horribly. She wrote back, nice long letters telling me what was going on and how she was.  
  
"Then one day I got a letter from Mme Benoit. Genevieve had died in a typhoid outbreak."  
  
Satine cuddled into Christian. "I was all alone. Odette was no where to be found, Lizbette was dead, Genevieve was dead, Maman was dead, Papa was dead. I had no one.  
  
"I became very involved in my work. And I became very good at it.  
  
"I was fifteen when I became one of the Diamond dogs, and a year later I was the Sparkling Diamond."  
  
"My poor darling." Christian said, embracing her.   
  
She sighed. "Wow. I feel a lot better having told you that."  
  
Christian grinned. "The marvel of sharing."  
  
"Want to hear my most interesting achievement?" Satine asked with a wicked smile.  
  
"What?" he asked warily.  
  
"I can peel an apple without breaking the skin."  
  
"Really?"  
  
Satine nodded proudly. "Uh huh. The one thing we always had a lot of was fruit. And boy, did we ever have a lot of. So, one day I was playing around and I challenged myself and found out I could do it."  
  
"I can say the alphabet backwards." Christian announced.  
  
"Oh, can you?" Satine asked, laughing. "That's useful."  
  
"More so than peeling an apple whole." He sent the barb at her.  
  
Satine winced. "Ouch. Let's hear it."  
  
"Z-Y-X-W-V-U-T," He started.  
  
He started walking away, still reciting. "S-R-Q-P-O,"  
  
Satine felt her chest contract. Suddenly, the world was spinning round and round. The letters of the alphabet swirled around her head in a sea of red. Her mother humming a song. Christian singing.  
  
"N-M-L-K-J-I," he continued.  
  
Satine gripped at the iron fence, willing her mind to clear and her breath to catch.  
  
It didn't work.   
  
"H- G-F-E-D," Christian protracted.  
  
"Christian-"  
  
Christian turned to see Satine weakly holding her hand out to him, before starting to fall.  
  
He caught her just before she reached the ground.  
  
Christian looked around wildly, thoughts whirling through his head. Where could he go? Who could he get to help Satine.  
  
He looked up at the entrance of the park. Harrison Park. If this was Harrison, that meant that home was a block away.  
  
Home.  
  
All thoughts of his parents and siblings left his head. Satine needed help, and he could get her help back home.  
  
Conveniently forgetting that he and his family hadn't left on the best of terms, Christian picked Satine up and started running towards his house.  
  
Home. 


	2. Let Mummy help

Author's note: I forgot to mention this in my last installment. I believe that Satine and Christian had a playful relationship. I mean, could you imagine just sitting at a table in stony silence for twenty years with no conversation? That'd be just icky! Plus, I think Satine was just a naturally charming/funny person. So, yes; they tease, they joke. That's the way I think their relationship would have gone.  
Author's note II: In the movie, Satine's persona is never really revealed beyond the whole flying away bit. Christian we know about, Satine's a mystery.  
But since I am omnipotent and have you reading my story *bwahahaha* I have Satine as kinda a scared little girl. She wants love, she wants security, and she wants acceptance. Yeah. Poor needy Satine.  
AND I gave Christian a last name. Please, don't bite my head off.  
  
  
Christian was blindly running, but he instinctively knew where he was going. Though one might think he would have been slower carrying Satine, the urgency of his flight made him faster. One block up. Must get help for Satine. Two blocks over. And help is at home. Three houses down.  
  
There it was, the house he had grew up in. He would have enjoyed the view if it weren't for the sense of crisis that plagued him, and Satine's dead weight in his arms.  
  
He kicked the gate open, rushing up the driveway and up the front steps. He kicked at the door.  
  
The door was opened by the new maid, Lindsay. She had been there for a few months, and had never seen Christian. When he started to push in, the frightened Lindsay tried to slam the door in his face.  
  
Christian stuck his boot between the doorjamb and the door, not ready to give up. Goddammit, he knew he had been disowned, but not even his cold-hearted father would turn him away with the sky a dismal gray and the wind so very cold and an unconcious woman in his arms.  
  
Would he?  
  
Oh God, Christian thought, though he had never been one for religion, please let them understand...  
  
He need not have worried.   
  
The door was pulled open by Christian's mother.   
  
Evelyn Deveraux was a small woman, about a head shorter than her oldest son. She had aged remarkably well, looking not a day over 30. In reality she was 38, a fact she was quick to hide. She had gray eyes of her favorite son and thick, dirty blond hair. She was a compliant woman, eager to please and slow to annoy, hard to anger and quick to excite.  
  
At the sight of her favorite son, Evelyn beamed. With a second glance, her smile faded. Christian was obviously distressed, and in his arms he carried a woman who was obviously in a state of collapse.  
  
"Christian?"   
  
A quick, curt nod was her response as Christian entered the house. "What happened?" Evelyn continued. She turned to Lindsay. "Go fetch a doctor," she hissed. "And be quick about it."  
  
Christian was talking much as she started towards the stairs. Evelyn hurried ahead. "We'll put her in the rose room- no, that's cold. All the guest rooms are cold! Christian darling, go to Annette's room and put her in there- Annette! Annette, come here, dear!"  
  
A pretty young girl came rushing down the hallway and started down the stairs. She was stopped by Christian, who marched, unperturbed, to Annette's room.  
  
Annette was a quite a lovely girl. She was a tiny little thing, with delicate features. She had light brown hair and had the same eyes as Christian and Evelyn. Like her mother, her face started to light up at the sight of him, but turned to confusion once she saw what her brother was holding.  
  
"Christian?" asked Annette.  
  
Christian ignored her, starting down the hall towards Annette's room.  
  
Annette looked at her mother for an explanation. Evelyn merely shrugged and motioned for her to follow.  
  
When Evelyn and Annette got to the room, Christian had already laid Satine down on the bed. Evelyn sat next to her, feeling forehead.  
  
"She's burning up with fever."  
  
Christian shook his head. "She wasn't this afternoon."  
  
"She is now. Christian, go downstairs and wait for the doctor. Annette, get a nightgown."  
  
Christian backed slowly away, until he knocked into the wall. He turned and fled down the hall and took the stairs three at a time. He went to the window and all but pressed his nose against the glass waiting.  
  
It seemed like an eternity until the small maid and the doctor appeared.  
  
Christian threw the door open and hurried the doctor upstairs and into Annette's room.  
  
Evelyn and Annette had changed Satine into the nightgown and put her under the covers. At the sight of Satine's paler-than-normal face and ragged, shallow breathing, the doctor was instantly alarmed.  
  
He turned to Christian. "You cannot stay here." He instructed. "Miss Annette, you either."  
  
He practically pushed Annette and Christian out the door. They both stood there for a minute, stunned.  
  
Annette turned to her brother, her face in a huge grin. "You've been here five minutes, and already the house is topsy-turvy. Welcome back."  
  
Christian embraced his sister, his fear momentarily abated. Doctors were good. Doctors could help Satine. They could give you a spoonful of nasty liquid or a shot and the world would make sense again. A doctor could help Satine. And besides, it was nice to see Annette again. "I missed you." he replied earnestly.  
  
Annette smiled winningly. "How could you not miss me?"  
  
Christian playfully yanked on her hair. Annette turned serious again. "Who is she?"  
  
"My fianc‚e."  
  
Annette looked at him as if to ask `And?'  
  
Christian looked away, his anxiety having returned, his eyes boring holes into the door. Annette watched him for a second, watching his fanatic intensity. Annette felt certain that with a few more seconds of his glaring the door would fly off it's hinges and into the room.  
  
She tentatively reached out and touched his shoulder. Christian, who had been dreaming up worse case scenarios, jumped at her touch.  
  
"Let's go downstairs," Annette suggested. "And you can tell me what you've been up to." Firmly taking a hold on Christian's elbow, she dragged him down the stairs.  
  
Christian seemed to be in a daze. He continued to daydream about all sorts of things while Annette patiently waited for him to come to.  
  
But Annette was not a patient girl, and after five minutes of stony silence, a year of pent up emotions and years of playful sibling rivalry, Annette reached out and smacked her brother's arm.  
  
"Snap out of it!"  
  
Christian's head jerked up, and he stared at Annette for a moment as if not sure of who she was.  
  
"So, Christian," Annette barged in, "What have you been doing these past few months?"  
  
"I went to Paris." he replied vaguely.  
  
"I know that. What did you do there?"  
  
He was looking down at his lap, where he was holding a pillow and fingering the tassels. "I wrote a play."  
  
"Did you now? How nice. Was it a good play?"  
  
A pause. "I don't know."  
  
"I'm your sister, quit being modest. Go on, rant and rave about how fabulous it was."  
  
"We left before opening night." he said dully.  
  
"We?" Annette asked carefully.  
  
Christian looked up at his sister. His eyes were full of worry, and they searched Annette with fear. This was his beloved little sister, his own dear sweet Annette. She, his conspirator, his compatriot.  
  
Christian's eyes welled up with tears. "What if she dies?"  
  
Annette looked at her brother, horrified. She had never seen a man cry, much less her hero, her older brother. And there he was, his eyes welling up with tears over a girl he hadn't known six months before.  
  
If it had been anyone else, Annette would have ran. Annette would have ran out of the room and away from the offending male who dare show emotion and weakness in the presence of a female.  
  
But it wasn't anybody. It was Christian, her favorite brother.  
  
She pulled Christian into an embrace, giving him the comfort he so desperately needed.  
  
Christian put his head down on Annette's shoulder, gripping her tightly. "Sissy... I don't know what I'd do."  
  
Annette silently hugged her brother. She didn't know what to say. She didn't know how to comfort him.  
  
"I'd die without her, Sister. I'm certain of it."  
  
Annette stroked her brother's hair. "Shh, Christie... shh. You don't want Mamma to see you like this, do you? Or the boys? Shh, Christie, stop your tears. Everything's going to be alright."  
  
Christian obediently sat up. Annette continued speaking rapidly, scared that he might start sobbing again.  
  
"You remember when Tommy had Scarlet Fever? You remember? And we were all sure he was going to die? Mamma didn't let him, because Mamma doesn't take any nonsense. Mamma won't let her die, Christie, you know she won't. And neither will Dr. Wallace."  
  
Christian nodded, taking a few deep breaths. Annette smiled fondly at her brother. "That's better. Now, tell me all about her."  
  
Christian started to play with the pillow again.   
  
"Where did you meet her?" prompted Annette.  
  
"At the Moulin Rouge." he said softly.  
  
Annette's voice caught in her throat. She had heard the argument between her father and Christian before he had left. She remembered his words: You'll wind up wasting your life at the Moulin Rouge with a cancan dancer!   
  
Had Christian fulfilled that prophesy?  
  
A sicker, more perverse thought entered Annette's head: If she was a cancan dancer, did that mean that she was... that she was...  
  
A prostitute?  
  
"At the Moulin Rouge?" she asked carefully.  
  
Christian nodded. He looked up at Annette, whose eyes were now filled with doubt. Reading her mind as only a brother could, he narrowed his eyes and gripped her hand.  
  
"Don't look that way, Annette, and don't even begin to think poorly of her." he threatened. Annette watched him cautiously.   
  
"What? I didn't say anything."  
  
Christian looked at her pleadingly.  
  
"She's not bad, Sister. She's not. She's sweet and kind and loving..."  
  
Annette watched her brother. His entire expression changed whenever he thought of her- his eyes got a far away look in them, his mouth curved into a smile, and his whole attitude changed.  
  
Christian wasn't one to fall for a bad girl, at least she didn't think he was. And if he believed that she was a good person, than she must be.  
  
Whatever she was, Christian did seem to love her. And Annette decided that right then and there that no matter what happened, she was going to love her too.  
  
`What's her name?" she asked, hesitant to take him out of his reverie.  
  
"Satine." he said dreamily.  
  
Of all the women to choose from, he chose the star.  
  
Annette knew she was not supposed to know of such things. A lady of her culture and age should never know about underworld occurrences.  
  
But Annette was a crafty little thing, skilled in the art of eavesdropping. She overheard everything and retained it. Had she been a boy, she would have been without a doubt her father's favorite. But since she was a woman, she was not supposed to have a brain, and thus was ignored.  
  
Annette nodded slowly. "Satine."  
  
"Satine." he affirmed.  
  
"From the Moulin Rouge." continued Annette. Christian nodded. "There's gonna be some troub-lllllle." She knew that her father was going to have a heart attack, keel over and die, come back, and kill Christian.  
  
At that very moment, the door opened. Christian was up in an instant. The little maid came down the stairs and dropped a curtsy in front of them.  
  
"Miss Annette, the mistress and the gentl'man want to see you and the master `ere."  
  
Annette nodded. "Thank you, Lindsay. You may go."  
  
She turned to Christian. "That's our call."  
  
Christian was already up the stairs, and she heard the door shut. Annette sighed and chased after him.   
  
"Ah, Miss Annette. Now we can get started." Dr. Wallace was standing in the middle of the room. Satine had a strap around her arm. An open bottle of clear liquid was on the bedstand, and a syringe was next to it. "I fear the lady," he motioned to Satine. "Has a rather bad case of consumption."  
  
And with a sickening lurch, time stopped. Christian stood there, and could literally feel time halting. He knew was consumption was. It was a disease that deteriorated the lungs until there hardly anything left. The disease consumed the lungs, thus giving it it's name: consumption.  
  
Victims died by drowning in their own blood.  
  
And his beloved Satine had that?!?  
  
"Though it seems quite bad, it is at a curable stage. But the lady will need to be placed in a sanitarium."  
  
Again, another word Christian realized. When he was younger, his family would take vacation up to the mountains. On the way, you could always see large white buildings high up in the mountains, distant and hard to get to. `What are those?' he would ask. `Sanitariums' someone would reply.  
  
Sanitariums. Bleak places where the coughs of the dying were amplified by those of the others who coughed in unison. Places where when you stopped, it still echoed through the desolate, hopeless halls. Places where family and friends visited less and less. Places where parents stopped visiting their fussy children because they know all is lost. A place where optimism was missing.  
  
And this man wanted to put his Satine in one of those places? His beautiful, wild, spirited Satine in that barren, despondent, hopeless place?  
  
Christian was jerked out of his meditation because Dr. Wallace was talking again.  
  
"She needs good clean mountain air and plenty of rest. As in, no overexertation. Pure bedrest."  
  
Christian was nodding. As much as he hated the idea, he knew the doctor knew what he was talking about. And if it meant Satine would get well, then so be it.  
  
~*~  
  
"Red Bird, let's hear a song."  
  
"Yes, Red Bird! Sing something!"  
  
She shook her head, laughing. Her red hair whipped out, hitting the people in her direct vicinity. "We'll wake everyone up!"  
  
"No we won't! Oh, please, Red Bird? Sing something!" they chorused.  
  
"Yeah, come on, Red."  
  
She turned to her sister. "Jenny, you're always taking their side! And me being your own sister!"  
  
"Stop being modest and sing." Genevieve instructed.   
  
She smiled and started to sing.  
  
"All I want is a room somewhere;  
Far away from the cold night air."  
  
She pranced around the room   
  
"With one enormous chair;  
oh wouldn't it be loverly?"  
  
She had climbed up on a bed and was now motioning for the girls to move the candle from the nighstand. Up she went, balancing precariously on the rickety piece of furniture. She flashed a grin.  
  
"Lots of choc'late for me to eat;  
Lots of coal makin' lots of heat;  
Warm face, warm hands, warm feet,  
oh wouldn't it be loverly?"  
  
She sat down on the nightstand, drawing an leg to her chest. She wrapped her arms around them, putting her chin on her knee.  
  
"Oh, so loverly sittin' abso-bloomin'-lutely still!  
I would never budge 'till spring   
crep over me winder sill."  
  
She got a fanciful look on her face, as if she were dreaming.  
  
"Someone's head restin' on my knee;  
warm and tender as he can be,"  
  
She raised her head resolutely here, as if singing loudly would make it more true.   
  
"Who takes good care of me;  
oh wouldn't it be loverly?"  
  
Jenny smiled at her sister. "Loverly,"  
  
She smiled back. "Loverly,"  
  
"Loverly,"  
  
"Oh wouldn't it be  
Loverly."  
  
~*~  
  
Satine slowly opened her eyes. Though there was only an oil lamp near the door, Satine had to blink a few times to adjust her eyes.  
  
She slowly moved her head to the right. There, holding her hand, was Christian. He had pushed her chair back and laid his head down on the bed. He was fast asleep.  
  
She felt her heart swell with love for him. Poor thing looked exhausted, and she momentarily hated herself for tormenting him like she had.  
  
She turned her head the other way. A girl she had never seen before was holding her hand. She was pretty, with light brown hair and an elegant appearance. She was leaning her head back in the chair and seemed to be sleeping.  
  
In a chair next to the door slept a woman that she could hardly see.   
  
Satine wanted to wake up. She wanted to shake Christian's hand and cry out, Look, I'm awake, and I'm fine! She wanted to find out who these two other women were. She wanted to know why she was in a pink room that was far nicer than the room they had rented at Mrs. Phillips.  
  
But fatigue decided that Satine's wants wouldn't be satisfied, and she felt her eyelids start to droop. She managed to give Christian's hand a weak squeeze before she succumbed the sleep that was so warm and inviting.  
  
~*~  
  
Annette hated to sew. Sewing was bad, sewing was evil, yet her mother insisted. And so she had a half-finished needlepoint of a swan she had been working on since she was fourteen.  
  
Annette was quite clumsy with the needle, and when she stuck it in to the the cloth she got her finger as well.  
  
She yelped in pain. "Blast this infernal thing!" she cried out, throwing it aside. She looked at her finger from which a bead of blood was coming. "O-ow." she whined, sticking her finger in her mouth and groaning.  
  
"Sounds painful." Came a weak, hoarse voice.  
  
Annette whipped her head around. Attempting to sit up and wide awake was Satine.  
  
"Satine!" Annette yelped, momentarily forgetting her finger as she pushed Satine back down into the pillows. "Oh my heavens, you're awake!" Annette started babbling. "I"m sorry Christian isn't here, he's been with you for five days straight and he just started sleeping last night out of sheer exhaustion because, believe you me, if he had had a choice he would have stayed awake for the next seven days if he had needed to, but he was beginning to stink so we sent him off to bathe and eat and sleep so that's where he is now and my mother is downstairs so if you want me to get her I will... how are you feeling? You must think of me as horribly rude, I'm Christian's sister. Would you like me to go wake up Christian? I know he wanted me to get him the moment you woke up. Am I tiring you by speaking so much?"  
  
Satine just looked at Annette, having missed most of what she had said that didn't pertain to Christian.  
  
"You're Annette, aren't you?"  
  
Annette nodded. "My fame precedes me." She started for the door. "I'm going to get Christian- he'll have my head if I don't get him- do you need anything?"  
  
Satine shook her head. "I'm fine. Let him sleep. Sit down." Satine motioned for her to sit. "Come. Sit."  
  
Annette looked at her warily. By her father's description, evil women were crass, boorish indivuals of the devil, their hideousness thinly veiled by their beauty. Annette vaguely remembered the priest's words about the Jezebels of the world. One could see the evil in their eyes. One must never fall victim to the wiles of corrupt women.  
  
Christian had told her that she wasn't like that, and if she hadn't been assured before, she was now.  
  
Satine's eyes were warm and inviting. There was nothing false about her smile, which shone with real affability. And there was nothing counterfeit about her beauty. She was easily the most beautiful woman Annette had ever seen.  
  
Annette chucked her father's thoughts out the window. Who cared what the stuffy old geezer thought, anyway? She sat down on the bed next to her.  
  
"How are you feeling?" she asked.  
  
Satine smiled feebly. "My throat's a little sore."  
  
Annette snorted in the most unladylike fashion. "Small wonder, with the way you were coughing."  
  
"What's the matter with me?" Satine asked evenly.  
  
Annette bit her lip. "I think I'll go get Christian now." she started to stand up, but was stopped when Satine's long fingers wrapped around her wrist.  
  
"Annette, tell me."  
  
"I'll be right back-" Annette said, much stronger than Satine and pulling away. She went out the door and disappeared.  
  
Satine laid back down on her pillows. She felt slightly dizzy from the conversation, a fact that made her cringe. This weakness was ridiculous and could not be tolerated.  
  
Christian skidded to a stop in the doorway in a dark green robe. He stopped at the sight of her, his eyes wide, before he ran into the room.  
  
He gathered Satine into his arms, kissing her forehead, her lips, her hair. Between kisses he mumbled "Oh, thank you, God, thank you, Lord, thank you, thank you, thank you."  
  
Christian had murmured every prayer he knew while sitting vigil besides her.   
  
He pulled away and looked at Satine. His eyes were brimming with tears. "I thought I was going to lose you." he whispered, drawing her to him again.  
  
Satine rested her head on his shoulder, revelling in his embrace. "Never," she said in her slightly rasping voice. "Never, never, never."  
  
He pulled away again, his hands on her cheeks. "My God. You look-"  
  
"Like a wreck?" she supplied.  
  
"No," he said in an awed tone. "Beautiful."  
  
She laughed softly and rolled her eyes. "Flatterer."  
  
"How are you feeling, dearest?" he asked.  
  
"My throat's a little sore," she admitted. She looked at him carefully. "Christian- what's the matter with me?."  
  
Christian stood up and went the window. "We need a little light in this room." he said suddenly. He leaned into the windowframe.   
  
How can I tell her? How can I say that she's on the brink of death?  
  
Satine looked after him helplessly. While she was furious with him for not telling her, she realized how hard it must be for him. God knew she would be a destroyed if Christian was sick. He's shielding me.  
  
"Christian..." she called quietly.  
  
He turned to her, his eyes filled with pain. He crossed back to the bed, taking her hands in his.  
  
"Darling... you have..." he swallowed hard. Satine felt she stomach roll with anxiety. This had to be bad if he was having such a hard time saying it. "It's... consumption."  
  
Satine lay quietly for a moment, allowing herself to absorb his words. Consumption. She knew what that meant. Blood. Coughing. Doctors with needles and tonics. Santa-  
  
"Will I have to go to a Sanitarium?" she asked softly.  
  
The distant, detached man sitting next to her nodded slowly.  
  
The noise Christian heard next shocked him. Satine had released a little laugh.  
  
The Sparkling Diamond had shone through.  
  
"Is that all?" she asked. Her tone was light and carefree. "Oh, Christian, that's nothing. I thought you were talking about something serious here."  
  
Christian looked at her seriously, and slowly shook his head. Don't do this.  
  
Satine defiantly sat up, raising her chin in a obstinate gesture. "Oh, please. I don't get sick, Christian. This is nothing more than a bout of-"  
  
Satine had been going strong. Her eyes were shining, her voice was steady, her arguement persuasive.  
  
But she was still sick, and she drew her breath in quickly, a hand to her chest. When she looked up at Christian she had both tears and humility in her eyes.  
  
"How bad is it?" she asked, her voice just above a whisper.  
  
"The doctor said it's still curable. But you'll need loads of medicine and bedrest. That's why they're placing you in a Sanitarium."  
  
"Am I going to die?"  
  
The words came swiftly and without hesitation, as if she had asked him what time it was. He looked at her, horrified.  
  
He did not see the confident, lighthearted Satine he knew so well, nor did he see that false happiness of the Sparkling Diamond.  
  
In place of them was a scared little girl who needed to hear the truth even though she might not like it. A scared little girl who needed someone to chase the monsters away from under her bed and keep them away.  
  
A scared little girl who needed love.  
  
Christian put his hands on her shoulders and shook his head slowly and deliberately.  
  
"No." he said. "You're going to get well, my love. I will take care of you."  
  
Satine looked at him for a moment before nodding and smiling at him. "I believe you." She yawned. She hated herself for being so tired. "I'm tired."  
  
Christian nodded. "I had better go then. Dr. Wallace will have my head if I keep you up."  
  
He moved to get up when Satine whimpered.  
  
"No. Just... stay with me."  
  
Christian looked down at her. She could hardly keep her eyes open, yet her fingers kept a death grip on his hand. She yanked his arm. Always the insistant and horribly spoiled, she was not going to let him go without a fight.  
  
Rather than leave, Christian smiled. "Alright."  
  
He lay down besides Satine, on top of the blankets. She sighed happily, snuggling into him. He put his arm around her, and she laid her head on his chest. A few seconds later, he deep breathing told him that she was asleep.  
  
"I'll protect you," he whispered to his sleeping beauty. "I promise." 


	3. Fun in the sanitarium/The Prodigal Son r...

Disclaimer: eekas! In the other chapter, the song 'Wouldn't it be loverly' belongs to the people who wrote 'My Fair Lady'. In this one, the song 'You must love me' is by the people who wrote 'Evita', with apologies to Brown-eyes. It is truly too perfect a song to pass up, and I honestly did not copy it. You should all go and check out her story, 'Deep in my heart I'm concealing'. It is REALLY GOOD.  
Boy, I keep getting in to trouble with this story. Oh well, proceed.  
I gave Satine a name! Yay!  
Since works has decided to convert to doc. it doesn't seem to like é, e's with accents. If you see something like clich, it's supposed to be cliche with an accent on the 'e'  
And (yeah, I have a lot to say) I seem to have typos I only see after I've posted. I know, they're annoying, but I'm typing this as a go along, and I have no BETA READER! Apologies.  
  
  
  
Satine looked out her window. Christian was down in the driveway, talking to the driver.  
  
The driver that would take them to the mountains.  
  
Mrs. Deveraux- Evelyn, as she had insisted she call her- had to have een the sweetest woman Satine had ever met. She was charming and very attentive. If Christian had told her anything about her past, she had made light of it.  
  
Annette was a doll, and she idolized Satine in a quiet manner.   
  
"I think she's a Goddess from the stories." she had whispered to Christian. "No woman could be that beautiful and have all those beautiful clothes.  
  
Evelyn had sent their butler, Chauncy, to fetch Christian's and Satine's bags, which Annette had rifled through with the utmost reverence. "And look how fashionable they are!" Annette had cried, examining the dresses. "They're beautiful!"   
  
Annette would sit for hours chatting away with Satine, who was no longer allowed to talk.  
  
The doctor had told her she strained her voice far too much, in addition to the weak state of her lungs, and in order to prevent serious damage she was not allowed to speak. Satine, indignant, had refused.  
  
"I won't let you do it! I won't let you take away my voice!" she had screamed, on the verge of hysterics. Emotional, she had turned to Christian fearfully. "Don't let them! Christian, don't let them!"  
  
What could Christian do? Though it broke his heart to refuse Satine, he wouldn't allow her to endanger her health. He made the horrified, shocked Satine promise that she wouldn't talk until the Doctor said so.  
  
Annette was good company for Satine. She wasn't like other girls, she was interesting and intelligent. She would read aloud from novels, from books of poetry, from history books. It didn't matter to either of them, but Annette was such a dramatic reader Satine had written (in French) that she should be an actress.  
  
That was another problem with the communication barrier. Satine had sheepishly admitted to Christian that she couldn't write in English. Harold ne voir pas l'importance du ecriture Anglais, she had protested. Juste la language.  
  
Neither Annette nor Evelyn spoke French, so Christian was used as the translator.  
  
Satine's favorite part of being with Annette was the stories she would tell about Christian.  
  
"We were all going to the country for a little vacation. So we arrived there and- God, we were little, I was about eight, so Tommy was five, Greg was ten and Christie was twelve- and the first thing he does is run into the forest and walk right into a hornet's nest. Well, they weren't all too happy about that and stung him all over!"  
  
But none of these fond memories came to mind as she watched the servants load the two carriages that would take them up to the mountains.  
  
Well, they would take Annette and Evelyn and Christian up to their house in the mountains. They would take Satine to the sanitarium.  
  
The doctor hadn't wanted to move Satine right away, fearful of what she might come encounter, so they had waited a week after Satine had awakened.  
  
Satine was in luck, Annette had whispered. Their father was out of town on a business trip, and with him he had taken Thomas and Gregory. Which was the only bone providence had thrown them.  
  
Christian's father: stern, godfearing Jeremy Deveraux. He who would rip her to shreds, Satine was certain. She had never seen him except for the portrait she had seen downstairs in one of the few instances Evelyn had found it suitable to move her.  
  
Jeremy even looked frightening the portrait, which all in all was a cheerful painting. Evelyn, Annette, and the three boys were smiling, but Jeremy had a look of consternation on his face that frightened Satine more than she would have ever admitted to.  
  
Based on the stories Christian had told her and the reports Annette had given her about the fight between them before he moved to Montmartre, Jeremy had taken the form of the monsters that had plagued Satine was she was a little girl in Marisse, sharing a bed with her sisters.  
  
The carriages were nice. Evelyn and Annette would travel in one, and Christian and herself in the others. Though Evelyn had insisted it was so that they didn't tire the horses with one full carriage of people and one full of luggage, Satine knew it was so that they could talk.  
  
While Satine was fluent in English, it was obvious she was more comfortable in French. And it seemed a reflex for Christian to prattle away in French when speaking to Satine, then seamlessly turning to Annette or his Mother and finishing the conversation on English.  
  
"Christian's always had a gift with languages," Evelyn had announced proudly.  
  
There was a knock on the door, and a pause. The pause was unnecessary, it wasn't like Satine was allowed to respond.  
  
"Satine?" came a voice. It was Annette. She opened the door. "Good morning."  
  
Satine nodded at her, smiling. She motioned to the window and raised a hand as if to ask 'what's going on?'  
  
Annette sat next to her on the window seat. "Christian's telling the driver the things he needs to know, I guess. Here." She handed Satine her coat. Satine fingered the collar.  
  
Annette studied Satine for a moment, looking deep into her eyes. "Are you scared?"  
  
Satine looked away before slowly nodding her head.  
  
Annette took her hand. "It'll be alright. We'll be there everyday. The people there will be nice, I promise."  
  
Satine turned her head listlessly back towards the window. Christian was finishing what he was saying and walking back into the house.  
  
Annette stood up. 'Come on, darling. Let's put on your coat." she pulled Satine to her feet and helped Satine into her coat. Satine just stood there.  
  
Annette stood back and smiled at her. "You look lovely."  
  
Satine nodded her thanks, and sat back down at the window, just looking out at the slate-gray sky. She couldn't remember the sun shining since they had arrived in England.  
  
Annette sighed. She knew Satine was unhappy. That much was obvious. She did not, however, know the drastic difference in Satine's personality.  
  
Christian knew. Christian saw the light fading from her eyes. And it broke his heart.  
  
Satine blamed herself for her weakness, which she despised. She abhorred the doctor, who she blamed for the loss of her voice.  
  
Without speech, Satine withdrew. She was miserable. She hardly ever smiled any more, and if she did, it was only a shadow of the dazzling grin she had possessed before.  
  
Christian wanted to help her, but there was nothing he could do. And the longer he waited, the farther removed Satine became.  
  
Once she gets better, Christian promised himself, She'll go back to normal. She'll smile again.  
  
She has to.  
  
Annette sighed unhappily, and turned to leave the room. Christian was bounding up the stairs, ready to take Satine.  
  
Christian looked at Annette when he stopped outside the door. His eyes searched hers.  
  
Annette couldn't bring herself to smile or do anything comforting. She couldn't set him up.  
  
Christian's face fell at Annette's downcast eyes. She wordlessly departed down the stairs.  
  
Christian walked into the room slowly. Satine was sitting in the windowseat, leaning back against the wall. She gave him a faint smile.  
  
Christian grinned back at her. "You ready?" he asked.  
  
Satine nodded, not moving from her windowseat. She lifted her handkerchief to her mouth and coughed daintily.  
  
Christian knelt next to her. "It'll be alright." he whispered.  
  
She just looked down at him with hollow, vacant eyes.  
  
Where do we go from here?  
This isn't where we intended to be.  
We had it all, you believed in me  
I believed in you  
  
Christian stood up and slid one arm under Satine's knees and the other behind her back, lifting her up effortlessly.  
  
Satine looked at him, surprised registered in her eyes. What on earth was he doing? She could walk down the stairs for God's sake.  
  
She didn't anything, not because she couldn't, but because she didn't have any words to say.  
  
Certainty's disappeared  
What would we do, for our dream to survive  
How do we keep all our passions alive,  
as we used to do?  
  
Christian didn't look down at her. He could hardly stand to see her this way- empty and void of emotion and happiness. It broke his heart to watch her become this way. What had happened to his lighthearted darling?  
  
Deep in my heart  
I'm concealing  
Things that I'm longing to say  
Scared to confess what I'm feeling  
Frightened you'll slip away  
  
Satine watched him carefully. She knew it hurt him to see her this way.  
  
She bit her lip, and tentatively put her arms around his neck, leaning her head against his shoulder.  
  
You must love me  
  
Christian felt his heart jump. This was the first sign of emotion Satine had given since she had lost the use of her voice five days before. And here she was, cuddling into him.  
  
You must love me  
  
Satine didn't get it. She could be dying. She could be dead tomorrow. Why was he still with her?  
  
Why are you at my side?  
How can I be any use to you now?  
Give me a chance, and I'll let you see how  
Nothing has changed  
  
She wouldn't say anything like that to him. More than dying or never getting back her voice (damn that doctor!), she feared losing him.  
  
In a surge of insecurity, she squeezed him tighter, nuzzling closer.  
  
Deep in my heart  
I'm concealing  
Things that I'm longing to say  
Scared to confess what I'm feeling  
Frightened you'll slip away  
  
There was only one explanation for why he was still here. Only one.  
  
You must love me  
You must love me  
You must love me  
  
~*~  
  
If Annette and Evelyn were surprised to see Satine in Christian's arms, they didn't show it. They both looked at one another with raised eyebrows and turned back.  
  
They both called goodbye, to which Christian responded and Satine waved, before all four climbed into their respective carriages.  
  
"I hope she's returning to normal." Evelyn said worriedly.  
  
Annette smiled knowingly. "I think she will. All she needs is a little love, Mamma."  
  
Evelyn nodded and squeezed her daughter's hand affectionately. "I know, dear heart. And you and I will make sure to give it to her."  
  
Satine stretched her long legs across the seat. She smiled faintly at him before settling down into the seats and rolling her head towards the window.  
  
"Satine..." he started.  
  
She looked back at him.  
  
His face was one of agony. There she was, the woman he loved, right within arm's reach, yet she was so far away from him it was tearing him apart.  
  
Satine, sensing his need, reached her hand towards him, which he took with startling rapidity. He clung to it as if it were a lifeline.  
  
"Don't let go, Satine." he breathed.  
  
She looked at him, puzzled, and moved their hands, showing that she hadn't. See, Christian, I haven't let go.  
  
"You're pulling away from me." he accused. He got off his seat and was kneeling besides her on the floor of the carriage.  
  
Satine shook her head fervently.  
  
He nodded.  
  
"Satine, I love you. I love you more than anything, more than I can tell you. But," he said, taking a deep breath. "I can't love someone who isn't there."  
  
Bewildered, Satine pointed to herself and motioned that she was right next to him.  
  
"Yes," Christian concurred. "You're right next to me. I can see you. But where are you here?" He put his free hand to his heart, and then to hers.  
  
Satine understood what he was telling her, and tears welled up in her eyes.   
  
She put her hand over his, and then moved her hand to his heart. She tapped her hand against his chest firmly to say 'there'.  
  
Satine moved her hand to tilt his face up to look at her. 'I love you' she mouthed. 'Come what may'  
  
Christian nodded. "Come what may."  
  
Satine removed her hand from his and reached down for the paper and fountain pen Evelyn had so thoughtfully supplied.  
  
Seulement Anglaise, she scrawled. Pas encore le Française.  
  
"Only English?" he asked, surprised.  
  
Satine nodded, and wrote out: I can't write in English, but I want to speak it. We'll work on writing later.  
  
Christian smiled at her. "So ambitious." She nodded, and then yawned.  
  
"There, darling, you go to sleep, and when you wake up you'll be nice and rested."  
  
Satine nodded and curled up in a corner. She was asleep instantly.  
  
Christian watched her for a moment. He was petrified of what would happen to her. He trusted the doctor to return her to health, but he was worried about what would happen to Satine's mental state.  
  
He knew she was insecure. That they had just had that little exchange gave him hope, but she was still a far cry from the bubbly Satine she had once been. If that was the way she was without her voice and with her by her side continuously, how would she be without her voice and without him?  
  
Christian said a quick little prayer. God had seen it fit to spare Satine's life and give her this extra chance. Maybe God could help her out again.  
  
~*~  
  
Satine had been the sanitarium a week, and she had never been more miserable in her life.  
  
The nurses there were haughty and cold. They very obviously did not like Satine. They thought she complained too much. None of them spoke French. They were at a loss in the language department. If Satine wanted anything, she had to wait until Christian was allowed in. Christian would then report it to the nurses, who would take it with a docile smile and nod and then turn around and viciously snap to their friends about the harlot in room twenty.  
  
Another horrid aspect: there were strict visiting hours. It didn't matter who you were or why you needed to see someone, you had to wait until ten o'clock in the morning to be admitted, be out at noon, wait until two to return, and be gone by six. No exceptions.  
  
Christian, of course, was outside the door at 11:59 and didn't leave until the nurses forced him. For all their hatred for Satine, they seemed to adore Christian, both old and young alike.  
  
Everyone who came into the room had to wear stupid little cloth masks over their noses and mouths. Satine hated it. Seeing people enter her room with those stupid little screens made her feel more like an invalid than ever.   
  
The food was horrible, and Satine would refuse certain dishes, adding fuel to the fire of the nurses heated animosity towards her. Annette started to bring her little pies and cakes when she saw the slop Satine had forced down her throat.  
  
And so it went for a time. While Christian guessed Satine hated it there, she never told him so explicitly. She didn't want to worry him.   
  
Yes, Satine was certain that if it weren't for Annette's witty stories and Christian's loving whispers, and both their little gifts, she would go mad.  
  
She had a quite an impressive collection of small trinkets now: a small stuffed bear Christian had bought her, a stained glass jewelry box Annette had found her, a nice pair of gloves from Evelyn, a book of French poetry (God only knew where he had found it) from Christian, some paper dolls from Annette (which had made Satine shake with silent mirth and Christian smack his sister. "Why on earth would you buy her paper dolls?" he cried. "Well," Annette had responded. "Paper Dolls are quite fun to dress up when you're not allowed to get dressed yourself!") and a beautiful needlepoint pillow from Evelyn.  
  
And so she slept with the bear next to her, she kept the jewelry next to her for decoration, she wore the gloves whenever possible, she read the book of poetry over and over, she cut the paper dolls out and played with them, and admired the pillow often. In the hours she spent alone with the hateful nurses, these were the items that helped her remember just how loved she was.  
  
~*~  
  
Things began looking up the two weeks later. Christian had a firm talk with the doctor, who made an exception for them in allowing them to spend lunchtime with Satine, making their visiting hours stretch from ten to six straight. He also revoked the rule that all her visitors had to wear masks, saying that risk of contagion had lowered dramatically and that Satine was healing faster than any patient that he had ever seen. But, much to Satine's chagrin, he would not remove the rule about her voice.  
  
However, the best thing to happen was the new nurse. Fluent in French and unaffected by the other nurses, Clara Anderson was a godsend.  
  
Satine's response to the new nurse was so favorable that Christian reported it to the doctor. The physician, who had long been worried about her reactions to the nurses, instantly made Clara Satine's primary caretaker.  
  
Clara was in her mid-twenties with honey-colored hair and bright blue eyes. She was from the Isle of Jersey ("Dreadful place," she told Satine. "It's always gloomy and foggy. Couldn't wait to leave.") originally, but had been studying in London for a few years. She had picked up French from her mother's family, who were French. Whereas Satine insisted that Clara speak to her in English, they could communicate with Satine's notes.  
  
Satine's happiness had increased so much that it was visible. Having a way of communicating with someone besides Christian made her feel a lot better, and having Christian with her for eight hours rejuvenated her. Her cheeks started to regain their rosy pallor, and a bit of the sparkle returned to her eyes. She smiled more often.  
  
The physician was so impressed by Satine's improvement that he announced that if she continued this way she would be allowed to go to home in the next month. Under strict bedrest, of course. And with the attendance of a nurse. But anything was better than that awful sanitarium.  
  
When told that, Satine smiled. She was determined to be home and talking by Christian's birthday, February 12th. As it was, they were in the middle of January. Satine resolutely swore to herself and to Clara that she was going to be home and speaking by the 12th.  
  
~*~  
  
Two days after the doctor's notice of Satine's progress, Evelyn got a letter from her husband. He had returned home and learned of Christian's indiscretion. Mistakenly believing that Satine and Christian were married, as Evelyn thought, Jeremy had decided not to meet Satine until she was well. He gave Evelyn permission to stay on in the mountains with Christian and Annette until 'Christian's wife' had recovered, and then they were return straightaway to London.  
  
Evelyn wordlessly handed her son the letter, which he took with shaking hands. He skimmed over it, sighing with relief. His father was being merciful, something he rarely was, in allowing them to stay until Satine was better. Jeremy could have ruined everything. Had he told Evelyn to return, she would have.  
  
It wasn't until later that he realized that Jeremy hadn't mentioned Satine's name.  
  
~*~  
  
Satine was released from St. William's Sanatorium on Tuesday, January 30th under the care of Miss Clara Anderson, after resting there for less than a month. Satine had been the first patient to ever recover in that amount of time and was basically considered a medical miracle.  
  
She had complete half of her task with 13 days to spare.  
  
The Deveraux's mountain home was charming. Unlike the house in the city, this one was open and airy, sprawling over land instead of building up, like the townhouse. The view from any window was picturesque: the west their was the valley, which framed magnificent sunsets, to the north the mountains that cast a long shadow over the house during the day, the west a river and the little village, and to the south a beautiful lake and a forest.  
  
The lake was a common meeting spot for both members of society and the villagers, so at any given moment during the day the lake was crowded with people wanting to glide across the ice.  
  
Annette seemed to be very fond of skating, and often insisted that her brother accompany her. Satine derived no greater delight than from sitting at her window and watching them- or, more truthfully, watching Christian fall repeatedly.  
  
Both Evelyn and Clara were still very worried about Satine, and would not let her go out yet.  
  
"What if you were to catch a chill, dear?" Evelyn would ask anxiously. "Then what would happen?" Clara was all to quick to agree. They would abide by doctor's orders: Stay warm and silent.  
  
As the week of the 12th grew closer, Satine grew more and more impatient to be out of the house and speaking. On the 8th he proclaimed that she could go out only if she was kept warm and sat down. No one found this a problem. Wrapped up in furs from her head to her toes, Satine was placed on a bench that, when pushed, moved across the ice on gliders, which seemed to be very fashionable for ladies. Annette would skate alongside the bench and Christian would push. And fall. He claimed that the bench gave him more balance, but Satine shuddered to think that if he was that bad with something to hold on to, how bad was he alone?  
  
Another time, Satine sat nestled in furs while Annette and Christian built snow men. Annette's looked relatively good, but Christian's looked downright sickly.  
  
"That is the ugliest thing I have ever seen in my life." announced Annette.  
  
Christian opened his mouth to protest, looking back at his creation. "That was cruel, Annie. It's not that bad." He turned to Satine. "Is it, darling?"  
  
Satine snickered and nodded. Christian gasped in mock shock and fell to the ground twitching in pretend agony until he 'died' and lay there, motionless.  
  
Annette looked Satine with wide, innocent eyes. "I guess we should bury him, then." She commenced in kicking the snow towards Christian.  
  
"All right, all right! I'm up, my snowman is hideous! Okay! I surrender!"  
  
Annette smiled and daintily pranced away, going towards the waiting carriage.  
  
She did not expect the snowball that landed on her back.  
  
"CHRISTIAN!" she wailed, turning. He stood where he had been, whistling a little tune.  
  
Gasping in indignation, she bent down and balled up a handful of snow.  
  
Satine let out a little shriek as the snowballs began to fly. Ducking and weaving Annette's ammunition, he hid behind Satine. "I surrender!" he cried. He peered over Satine's shoulder, but he couldn't see Annette.  
  
He felt a slush of ice down his shirt a minute later. "ANNETTE!" he roared, and started chasing his little sister, who giggled madly.  
  
Satine turned in her seat to watch. This was what a family was, she realized. She had mixed emotions over that: jealousy that she had never had any of this with her family, and love, because she had been made a part of this one.  
  
Evenings were peaceful. After dinner, they would all gather around the fire. Clara, who was regarded now as a treasured family guest, Evelyn and Annette would embroider and drink their tea. Satine had the chair closest to the fire, swathed in furs and blankets. Christian sat at the foot of her chair, his elbow resting on her knee, reading aloud from some great novel or another. Sometimes Satine stayed awake and listened to the pleasant hum of Christian's voice as he read, but more often she fell into a contented sleep and was carried up to bed.  
  
Satine was happy, happier than she had been since she had fallen ill. Only one thing could make everything perfect.  
  
Speech.  
  
~*~  
  
Christian wasn't sure what Satine was up to, but he was sure that it wasn't good.  
  
She was being altogether way to secretive for Christian's peace of mind. She had been writing notes left and right to Clara, who would either pocket them or scurry off to translate them for Annette. When asked about them, Clara merely shrugged and said "Personal matters, sir," at which both herself and Annette would burst into laughter.  
  
When he asked Satine, she shrugged vaguely and smiled impishly.  
  
Even Evelyn was in on the secret! Evasion was everywhere.  
  
Christian shook his head at his nervousness. Satine was stuck in the house, and couldn't speak. How could she be plotting?  
  
Satine was up to something, but it wasn't what he thought.  
  
~*~  
  
The morning of February 12th dawned clear and chilly. Christian was awoken at the ungodly hour of eight by Annette, who barged right on in, Satine and Clara in tow.  
  
"Good morning and happy birthday!" cried Annette, tossing her gift at the half-awake Christian. Satine sat down next to him, embracing him and giving him a quick kiss.  
  
"Morning breath." he accused. She stuck her tongue out at him before mouthing 'Happy Birthday.'  
  
Clara sat down a breakfast tray. All three girls were in their nightgowns and dressing gowns, and they crowded around Christian as he opened Annette's present. It was an IOU in a elaborate box. Christian groaned and threw the wrapping paper at her. "Cheap!"  
  
Annette ducked. "You're the hardest person to buy gifts for. That's why Satine didn't get you anything."  
  
Satine swatted at her before shaking her head vigorously.  
  
Satine was going to hand him her gift when Evelyn swept into the room. She, of course, was fully dressed, and glared in shock at all four of the young people in the room, who hung their heads like guilty children.  
  
"Annette Rochelle Deveraux, have you completely taken leave of your senses?" she hissed in a semi-dangerous voice. "Up at this hour and traipsing about in your nightgown. Go to your room and get dressed immediately." She said 'immediately' in a low, menacing voice. Annette kept her giggles in check.  
  
"Yes, Mamma." she said, hastily making her escape.  
  
"Miss Anderson, I am shocked at your lack of decorum. I expect much better from you. Get right to your room."  
  
Clara too managed not to laugh at the sheer ridiculousness of it all. "Yes, Mrs. Deveraux."  
  
Evelyn turned to Christian. "And you, Mr. Birthday Boy? What's your excuse? Allowing the girls in your room with you in your nightclothes. Our morals have not fallen to the wayside, sir, not a chance. I am ashamed of you."  
  
She turned to Satine, who was fairly cringing. She flashed her a lovely smile. "Dear, it's quite cold. Go put on something warm before you catch a chill."  
  
Satine smiled brilliantly and nodded at Evelyn. Christian was watching Satine with a shocked expression. Behind Evelyn's back Satine flashed him a smug smile before disappearing into the hall.  
  
Evelyn regarded Christian's slack jaw with contempt. "Catching flies, dear?"  
  
"You like her better!" he accused. "And it's my birthday!"  
  
She sniffed with disdain. "Of course I do. She's lovely and well-bred and happens to be my guest. Now, Christian, you are going to get up and be dressed in ten minutes or I'm going to dress you myself and wash your ears."  
  
Christian moaned. "Alright... alright... I'm going..."  
  
~*~  
  
Christian was certain that either all three girls were up all night or had woken up at the first sign of daylight. The dining room was festooned with streamers. A big sign behind the head of the table spread across the room reading 'Happy Birthday, Christian!' Annette had destroyed 5 napkins by writing 'Christian's birthday, February 12th, 1900' in black ink.  
  
Evelyn, however, was still adamant about breakfast.  
  
"Children, don't think that just because you're grown up and have guests and we're not home means that we're changing our habits. Oh no. Breakfast first, then gifts."  
  
"Mam-maaaaaa." whined Christian and Annette in unison. Satine burst out laughing at the similarities of their features at that very moment.  
  
They all sat down to a nice breakfast of oatmeal, toast and marmalade, sausage, bacon and tea. Annette finished her entire breakfast in about two bites whereas Evelyn had just taken her first sip of tea, Satine had just started on her toast, and Clara was taking her second bite of oatmeal. Christian looked up from his sausage. "In a hurry, Annette?" he asked playfully. She made a face at him. "What? It's not like you have a present for me, anyway."  
  
Evelyn clucked her tongue at her daughter. "That's ignominious, Annette."  
  
Christian switched his gaze from Annette to Satine, and he dropped his voice to a whisper. "You're looking well, Satine. How do you feel, darling?"  
  
She smiled at him and nodded, expressing that she felt fine. While most people were confused when Satine made motions such as that, Christian knew exactly what she meant. All three other women present had each exclaimed their surprise at Christian's and Satine's ability to hold entire conversations like that.  
  
Fifteen minutes later Annette looked as though she would burst, and Evelyn was rather sick of watching Annette bounce up and down next to her. She waved a hand at her son. "Alright, Christian. Here are your presents. Iris!" she called. Instantly a maid appeared, laden down by a considerable amount of presents.  
  
Annette had gotten him a gift, it was a nicely bound book of poetry. "You know, I thought you'd like reading some more of those rhyming verses. This one," she said, jerking a thumb at Satine. "Seems to enjoy it far more than is healthy."  
  
"Oh, hush your mouth and come over here so I can give you a hug." Christian had muttered, embracing his little sister.  
  
From his mother, some shirts. A necktie. A dandy little top hat. "Thanks, Mum."  
  
Evelyn shrugged modestly. "It isn't much, dear. You can expect some more when we get back home."  
  
The last box was from Clara. It contained some nice handkerchiefs with Christian's initials on them.  
  
"Clara, you shouldn't have." he said. He cautiously gave Clara a little hug.  
  
He turned to Satine, who was concealing her smile. "Alright," he demanded. "Where is it?"  
  
Satine raised an eyebrow in mock confusion, and turned to Evelyn.  
  
"Christian, have you NO tact whatsoever?" she asked dejectedly. Annette and Clara hid their laughter behind their hands.  
  
Satine raised her hands in defeat, sweeping them around as if to motion that there was nothing there. Christian let his jaw fall. "That's wretched, Satine. It's my birthday and you didn't even get me anything. That's positively unfit. I still love you, though."  
  
She smiled at him as if he was doing her a big service, then sighed, held up her hands in mock defeat, and motioned to Iris.  
  
Christian turned excitedly to the door. A few minutes later Iris reappeared, wheeling a cart with a giant white sheet over it.  
  
Christian turned to Satine. "You didn't."  
  
She made no expression, but motioned for him to pull the sheet off.  
  
Carefully, Christian pulled it off.  
  
There sat a beautiful, gleaming, new Underwood typewriter, just like his old one. Behind it was a stack of paper.  
  
Christian sat there for a moment with a look of shock on his face. Typewriters were NOT cheap. Where had she gotten the money?  
  
He turned to Satine, shaking his head. "No." he said. She nodded, and motioned for him to look at it again.  
  
He turned back to the typewriter. It was beautiful.  
  
There was already a sheet of paper in there, just waiting for him to start. He could just spread his fingers and-  
  
Hold on.  
  
Christian peered at the paper.   
  
There was something already typed on it.  
  
He ripped the sheet out, and brought it close to his face.  
  
There were three words on it, but that was the greatest birthday gift Christian could have asked for.  
  
It read: I can talk now.  
  
"Happy birthday." Satine said quietly. She moved to sit down on his lap.  
  
Evelyn instantly remembered something she needed to do. "Annette, you need to practice your piano. Clara, you will accompany us. Come, Iris."  
  
Christian released his hold on Satine.   
  
"Does this mean you're all better now?" he asked with child-like innocence.  
  
Satine nodded. "Yes. I need to stay here for a week or so more- the doctor says the mountain air is good for me- but after that we can go to wherever we want."  
  
"Thank God," Christian said before drawing Satine closer to him.  
  
Evelyn and the girls went to town around noon, claiming desperate items needed were in the village, and that they'd be back for dinner.  
  
Satine and Christian couldn't have cared less. They spent the entire day talking.  
  
Well, almost the entire day.  
  
~*~  
  
The next to days passed anything but quietly. Satine felt that after a over six weeks of silence she should be entitled to chatter at any possible opportunity. For a few hours all members of the household found it endearing. After the third one, however, the only one able to tolerate Satine's endless prattle was Christian. If they weren't talking in some room, they were off on a walk through the valley, or off skating, or sledding, or at town. Always only the two of them, Christian listening attentively as the ridiculously bundled-up Satine vocated every thought on the slightest occurrence.  
  
Neither of them could have been happier.  
  
The doctor had come on Valentine's Day, prescribing a week more of the mountain air before they could return to the city. At that, the entire household rejoiced.  
  
A week later everything was packed up, and the carriages were ready. Clara was going to stay with Satine for at least another week as to ensure her health. She was riding in Annette and Evelyn's carriage.  
  
The drive back to London was an uneventful one. Christian didn't seem very nervous about facing his father, something Satine took as a very good sign.  
  
She, on the other hand, was a nervous wreck. Had she been a bit more nervous she'd be trembling.  
  
"Darling," Christian started, taking her hand. "However bad you're picturing my father, he's probably about half as bad."  
  
"He couldn't be," she trilled lightly. "Because with all the things I've heard he's second only to the devil."  
  
"Let me guess," he said dryly. "You were the only one who can't stand to hear ghost stories." She shook her head vigorously.  
  
They were in London, and Christian announced that they were only a few minutes away from the house. He started to get excited.  
  
"Christian, there's something I need to tell you." Satine began nervously.  
  
Christian pried his eyes away from the window. "Hmm?" he asked absentmindedly.  
  
"Christian, I'm serious."  
  
"I'm listening!" he protested.  
  
"Well-" she started.  
  
"We're home!" crowed Christian as they pulled up in the driveway. Annette threw open their door.   
  
"Are you ready to face the evil sorcerer Jeremy?" she cackled. Christian swatted at her.   
  
"Quit trying to scare her." he admonished.  
  
"Only trying to have a little fun." she pouted. She started towards the house wailing. "Bewaaaaaare of the Jerrrrrrremyyyyyyyy. Bewaaaaaaaaaare."  
  
Christian turned to Satine apologetically. "My sister's a head case. I apologize."  
  
He hopped down from the carriage, offering Satine his hand. She stepped down.  
  
Just then, a young man came bounding down the stairs. It was quite obvious that he was Christian's brother- they shared almost identical features. His hair, however, was the same as Annette's.  
  
"Ah," he said dryly. "The prodigal son returns."  
  
Annette hit him good-naturedly. "Would it kill you to be nice once in a while, Greg?"  
  
Gregory. The brother Christian didn't like very much.  
  
Gregory eyed Satine slowly, moving up and down. Satine cringed slightly, Christian slid his arm around her waist.  
  
"Blimey, Chris. I would have thought you'd be married to a plain girl, with your face. But this one..." he issued a low whistle. "This one's quite a looker. What are you doing with a guy like him?"  
  
Satine raised her nose at him. Christian bit back a laugh, and started to propel Satine forward. Into the house.  
  
Satine didn't remember much of the house, besides Annette's room. The first time she had been in there she had been unconscious, and the second time she was so upset to be leaving she didn't take much notice of her surroundings beside the giant portrait that loomed over the stairs.  
  
But this time it wasn't the portrait over the stairs that caught Satine's eye.  
  
It was Jeremy Deveraux.  
  
He stood there with a cold expression on his face.  
  
"Christian." he said emotionlessly.  
  
"Father." he replied.  
  
He took let his gaze move to Satine, slowly appraising her. He opened his mouth to say something, but Evelyn's arrival stopped him.  
  
His dull eyes brightened a bit. "Evie." he said, sounding a bit nicer. He walked down the stairs.  
  
Evelyn smiled warmly. "Jeremy." They embraced.  
  
He looked around his wife. "And where is my daughter?" he asked, his frigid tone having returned.  
  
"I'm here, Papa." said Annette, appearing from behind Evelyn. Evelyn stepped back.  
  
Clara was hovering in the doorway. She wasn't anxious to involved.  
  
A younger boy, who Satine assumed to be Thomas, rushed out of another room.  
  
"Thomas." said Evelyn, opening her arms. Thomas ran into them.  
  
Now that the whole family's been called, thought Christian, can we please get on with it?  
  
Jeremy looked back at Satine. She resisted the urge to raise her chin imperiously as an act of defiance.  
  
"So," Jeremy drawled. "This is your wife."  
  
Christian gulped and nodded.  
  
"May I see the papers?"  
  
Christian and Satine cast nervous glances at one another. They had never expected someone to ask for documentation. Before Christian could respond, Satine had burst into tears and lung herself into Jeremy's arms.  
  
Jeremy stood still for a moment, unsure how to respond. Every jaw in the room was on the floor. NO ONE hugged Jeremy Deveraux.  
  
Gingerly, awkwardly, Jeremy's arms reached up and started to pat Satine's back.  
  
"There, uh, there. What's the matter?"  
  
Satine pulled away, her eyes rimmed with tears. "Oh, it was horrible! We got married in the church I was baptized in and my parents were married in, and we left on our honeymoon, when we returned... the house had burnt down! My beloved parents were dead, the papers were gone, everything, everything, lost!" she burst into tears again.  
  
Jeremy ineptly patted her back again. "There, there. It's alright. We'll have you remarried." He looked over her head at his family. Evelyn had a shocked expression, Christian's jaw was hanging open, Annette's eyes were as wide as saucers, Thomas looked as though he had seen a ghost, and Gregory leaned against the wall with an amused smile.  
  
"What's her name?" hissed Jeremy.  
  
"Sa-" started Evelyn, Annette, and Christian.  
  
But Satine was too quick. She pulled away and looked at him.  
  
"Julia." she said evenly. "My name is Julia." 


	4. Who I used to be/ The Deverauxs

Disclaimer: Who knows they don't belong to me?  
  
  
  
The room was quiet with exception of Satine's fake sobs. Annette looked pretty shocked, as did Evelyn. Christian blinked a few times before coughing.  
  
Satine sniffled and smiled. "You must think me a silly goose for bursting into tears like that. I'm terribly sorry."  
  
Jeremy nodded a bit dazedly. "No, not at all, dear." The word 'dear' sounded strange and foreign when uttered by him. Christian stepped forwards and gently took Satine's arm.  
  
"Come, darling, let's go upstairs." He led Satine up the stairs and into his room. She sat down on his bed, grinning mischievously.  
  
"We're going to hell for that, you know." Christian said matter-of-factly. "You lied about us being married, about the house, about the honeymoon, about your parents-"  
  
Satine laid down on the bed. "You worry too much."  
  
Christian flopped down besides her. "We have a one-way ticket to hell now."  
  
"Funny," Satine said, turning her head to look at him. "I thought you were my redemption card." she kissed him softly.  
  
Christian pulled away. "And what was that Julia bit back there?" he sat up indignantly. "I mean, what was that? 'My name's Julia.'" he mimicked. "You certainly are a wonderful actress, Satine."  
  
She rolled over, looking down at the coverlet and tracing the pattern. "That's my name, Christian." Tears were brimming in her eyes. "I haven't even said it since I was fourteen. But that's who I am. Was. Am. Whatever." She took a deep breath, as if afraid to say it. "I'm Julia." she repeated it a few more times, as if savoring her own name. "Jullllllllia. Juuuuuuuuulia. Juliiiiiiia. Juliaaaaa." She shook her head at herself. "I don't even think of myself as Julia anymore. I think of myself as Satine." she laughed bitterly. "How pathetic is that? I've lost my own identity." She spoke aloud, but not directing towards anyone. "How can I expect myself to answer to Julia when I call myself Satine?" She drew her knees to her chest, curling up in a ball. "Can I ever be Julia again?"  
  
Christian sat down behind her, letting an arm drape over her waist.  
  
"Who is Julia?" he asked innocently.  
  
"Someone who I used to be." she said cryptically.   
  
~*~  
  
Annette was sitting in the parlor, practicing the piano. She was going fine until she came to a certain note. She messed up, sighed, and started the part again. Again, when she hit a particular note she messed up.  
  
A hand reached over her shoulder and hit a few keys, producing the portion of the song Annette was having trouble with.  
  
She looked over her shoulder, smiling at Christian. She imitated his movement over the keys. This time, she got it right.  
  
"I've been working on that for weeks."  
  
Christian smiled. "Easy." He sat down next to her on the piano bench.  
  
Annette wrinkled her nose. "You have an ear for music, for languages, and you can write all sorts of things. I hardly think it's fair that you got all the talent in this family."  
  
"I can't whine like you can." Christian pointed out.  
  
Annette pouted. "Christiannnnnn." she whined. Christian laughed. After a moment, so did Annette.  
  
When they had finished, Annette looked around the room. "Where's Satine? And what was with that Julia business?"  
  
"That's her real name." Christian said, still sounding a bit dazed over the whole affair.  
  
"And you didn't know?" Annette said in disgust. "That's contemptible."  
  
"Thank you, Annette." Christian said sarcastically.  
  
Annette peered around. "Where is she, anyway?"  
  
Christian shrugged. "All her plotting wore her out. She's taking a nap."  
  
Annette smiled. "She's awful talented. More so than you. And besides, it's for the best. I mean, if Papa knew what I knew..."  
  
Christian pinched her lightly. "And you don't know anything, do you, my maid?"  
  
Annette pouted. "No. And I hate when you call me that."  
  
"What?"  
  
"My maid. You make me sound like one of the help."  
  
"You shouldn't sound so condescending, Annette. It's vulgar. And quite unattractive."  
  
Annette paid him no mind. "I still hate it. You're calling me a domestic. And you've been calling me it for years and I still can't figure out why."  
  
Christian sighed. "'Maid' is another word for 'girl', my darling ignoramus."  
  
Annette smirked. "I blame my ignorance on Papa, who refuses to allow my governesses to teach me anything but poetry, German, and manners."  
  
"Which need a little work, maid." Christian pointed out.  
  
Annette was about to hit him when she smiled. "Sa-" she was stopped by a sharp jab in her ribs with Christian's elbow. "Julia. Julia! Hi!"  
  
Satine stood in the doorway, rubbing her eyes sleepily. She looked about five years younger. "Hi." she said softly. She crossed the room to sit on the couch. Christian stood up and sat down next to her. They kissed, and Annette looked away, pretending to be enraptured in her sheet of music.  
  
"Christian?" came Satine's voice suddenly. Annette figured it was safe to turn around, and did so. Satine had her head resting on Christian's shoulder, and Christian has his head on top of hers.  
  
"Hmm?" asked Christian.  
  
"Can you show me around the house?"  
  
Annette jumped up. "Ooh! Christie! Let's give her the tour!"  
  
Christian sat up straight and clapped his hands. "Ooh! Yes!" he said in an overly-excited voice. He quirked an eyebrow and leaned back. "Let's not."  
  
Annette furrowed her brow. "Come onnnnnnnn." she pleaded. "Sa- Julia does."  
  
Satine nodded. "Uh-huh. I do. Please?" She stood up, standing next to Annette. The both made puppy eyes at Christian.  
  
"Please?" they whined in unison.  
  
Christian groaned. "Not fair."  
  
Satine smirked. "I don't care. Now, get up, and give me a tour." she pulled him to his feet.  
  
"How come I know I'm going to regret this?"  
  
~*~  
  
"And this is where Christian threw up after eating all of Mamma's raspberry tarts she made for her society tea party." Annette relayed joyfully. They were standing in the hall.  
  
"I didn't eat them all." Christian objected.  
  
Annette smiled knowingly. "That's right. He gave one to me. He ate everything else."  
  
Satine dissolved into giggles.  
  
"That's," she pointed to the painting. "The family portrait we had done just before Christian left. Papa doesn't believe in photographs. Mamma likes them, though. We have a few. Papa insists on family portraits. This way."  
  
They walked into the next room. It was the parlor, the room they had just left. "The parlor." Annette announced, before ushering them to the next room.  
  
"The dining room." she said. Satine was enchanted.  
  
In the middle of the room was a long table of gleaming wood with a white linen table runner. The chairs were carved elaborately and upholstered with red velvet. The most impressive was the one the one at the farthest end of the table. Satine assumed with a giggle that the chair was where King Jeremy took his meals.  
  
Four portraits adorned the wall- one of a young girl standing outside with a parasol, another of a little boy in a sailor suit holding a toy boat, another boy's serious face, and the oldest boy with a book in his hand.  
  
"Let me guess," Satine said. "Annette, Thomas, Gregory, Christian."  
  
Annette smiled. "Yes. Mamma has our portraits done every two years. Christian's due for one."  
  
"Where do all the other ones go?" asked Satine dazedly. Christian was 20, that was 10 portraits right there. Annette was 16, that was 8, Gregory was 18, that was 9, and Thomas was 13, that was 6. "That's 30-some portraits!"  
  
Both Annette and Christian cocked their heads and started to do the math. They both arrived with the answer at the same time. "About." they said in unison.  
  
"All over the place," said Annette. "I have one of me in my room, they go in the guest rooms, parlors, hallways, bedrooms... it all depends." she smirked. "Mamma has one of Christian in her room. That and a family portrait. She loves Christie the best, doesn't she?"  
  
Christian looked at Annette witheringly. "That's not true."  
  
"Is too."  
  
Christian rolled his eyes.  
  
Annette stomped her foot. "You're supposed to say 'is too'." she complained. "Fine. Don't play. This way we have..."  
  
~*~  
  
Satine bit her nails on one hand nervously, smoothing down her hair with her free hand. She forced herself to stop biting, and looked in the mirror tensely. She was on display tonight.  
  
Dressed in a modest dark blue silk dress with three strands of pearls, she looked ethereal and respectful. Her hair was pinned up, and the dress set off her pale skin to perfection. Looking in the mirror, she knew she looked fine.  
  
"You look fine." Christian said, echoing her thoughts. He had just finished putting on his suit. Apparently Jeremy was very strict about dinner time appearance. He picked up a tie.  
  
"What if I say something wrong?" she said anxiously. "Or if I forget to answer to my name?"  
  
"You won't. You never do. And-" he paused here, struggling with his tie. "since you're so worried about it, you'll jump whenever anyone says your name."  
  
Satine moved closer to tie the bow. "I hope you're right. I feel as though I'm on display or something."  
  
"And you're not used to it by now?" Christian asked. Satine poked him in the stomach. "Honestly, darling, it's not as though we bite. Father is all bark and no bite, Mamma adores you, Annette idolizes you, Thomas is still and awe and can't string three words together in your presence, and Greg is just- just ignore Greg, okay?" Christian grabbed her wrist and forced her to look at him. "I mean it."  
  
Satine raised an amused eyebrow at him, her fear momentarily subdued. "The true evil one of your family?" she asked.  
  
"Greg is a jealous person, dearest. He will say all sorts of mean things to you. He is a mean spirited person. Don't pay him any mind, and don't show him how it hurts. That's his ammunition. Even if you're going to scream, wait until you're out of his sight. That's all the advice I can give you on the Deveraux family."  
  
"Well," Satine said, putting her arms around his neck. "The father seems alright, the mother is a doll, I don't care much for the second son, don't have much of an opinion on the youngest, and adore the daughter- but I personally prefer the eldest son above the others."  
  
"Oh, do you?" asked Christian, wrapping his arms around her waist.  
  
"Um-hmm." Satine nodded. She moved closer to him. "I also like-" she leaned in for the kiss, but there was a rat-a-tat-tat at the door. Satine jumped away as though she had been touched by fire.  
  
"Christian? Julia? Dinner time!" called out Annette.  
  
"Coming!" they replied in unison.  
  
Satine's anxiety returned. She smoothed down her dress. "How do I look?" she asked.  
  
Christian smiled lovingly at her. "Beautiful. Come on. No need to be frightened. Father likes you. If he likes you, that's all you need. Trust me."  
  
The dining room was even more lovely when the chandelier illuminated. There were candles under all the portraits, giving them an almost frighteningly lifelike quality, with their bright eyes and smiling expressions. The crystal from the chandelier sent down rainbows of colors that danced on the china and the cut crystal glasses. The snowy linen was folded into an elaborate shape on the plate, which had a floral pattern was rimmed with gold.  
  
Christian pulled out the middle chair on the side closest to the door. Satine slid in, and he pushed it in. Taking the seat next to her, he took her hand and squeezed it.  
  
'Everything's going to be alright,' he mouthed. She nodded.  
  
Annette ran in next. When she saw she wasn't late, she let her shoulders drop in a sigh of relief. She smiled at Christian and Satine, and plopped into the chair next to her.  
  
"Good evening," she said breathlessly. She put a hand to her chest, crushing the delicate lilac muslin. "I thought I was going to be late. And Papa hates it when I'm late." She breathed in again. "Whew. What a rush."  
  
Thomas skidded into the room next, silently siting across from Annette. He sat down, and Annette winced.  
  
"Stop kicking!" she said angrily.  
  
"I didn't!"   
  
Annette gripped the sides of her chair and kicked. Thomas howled. "Ow!" He kicked back.  
  
"Ow!" she squealed.  
  
"Children!" thundered Christian. "Are you out of your minds? Knock it off!"  
  
"He started it," said Annette sullenly, slumping into her chair.  
  
"Did not." said Thomas in a nyah-nyah tone.  
  
"Did too."  
  
"Did not."  
  
"Annette." said Christian in a low, dangerous tone. "You're older. Stop it."  
  
Gregory strolled in. He leisurely took in Christian's authoritative pose, Thomas' hurt expression, and Annette's sulky position. "Problems?" he asked silkily.  
  
Annette sat up and pasted a falsely bright grin on. "Now that you're here, yes."  
  
Gregory sighed in mock despair. "To think how calm dinner was when you weren't here, Annette."  
  
"To think how much better my digestion was when you weren't near me, Gregory." she shot back sweetly. Satine quickly transformed her laughter into a cough.  
  
"Retorts such as that are hardly the works of a lady, Annie." chastised Gregory.  
  
"Goading ladies on is hardly the work of a gentleman, Greg."  
  
Gregory made a motion as if to say 'see?'  
  
"A woman's sword is in her tongue," quoted Annette. "And she does not let it rust."  
  
Gregory was about to reply when Jeremy entered, majestically escorting Evelyn.  
  
Jeremy was a good foot and a half taller than Evelyn was, and she looked positively birdlike next to imposing Jeremy. He surveyed the scene imperiously.  
  
"Good evening." he said austerely.  
  
"Good evening," chorused Gregory, Thomas, Annette, Satine and Christian.   
  
Jeremy pulled out the chair at the head of the table near Annette, and Evelyn sat down daintily. The manservant who had followed them in and draped a napkin on her lap. That was everyone else's cue to put their napkins on their laps.  
  
Jeremy moved to the other end of the table and was sitting down at the most impressive chair at the head. He motioned to the servant standing at the door, who in turn rang a bronze bell. A train of servants filed in, each laden down with platters of food.  
  
Satine looked around dazedly. She had never seen anything like this. She felt so simple and country. Annette seemed bored, tapping her fingers on the table until Evelyn gently put her hand over Annette's to stop her. Annette was used to this, she had seen it her whole life. This was nothing new. Evelyn was a true lady, smiling benevolently at all the servants. Thomas seemed anxious to eat, Gregory was glancing at the servants with contempt, Jeremy was oblivious to all around him and was looking around the table.  
  
Their eyes met, and they held for a few seconds until Satine dropped her gaze, a blush creeping to her cheeks. Her hand moved from her lap to find Christian's. She found it and gripped it nervously.  
  
As quickly as the servants had appeared, they were gone, and Satine looked to find her plate full as though by magic. A beautiful, salad was in the bowl, laden with beautiful slices of a juicy tomato and delicate shavings of carrots and other edible adornments, and topped off with a light vinaigrette. Next to the bowl was a plate with a smoking roll that smelled heavenly.  
  
Satine ventured to look up and around the table. Evelyn had her hands pressed together, and was motioning for the others to do the same. Christian folded his hands, as did Annette and Thomas. Reluctantly, Jeremy put his hands together. Groaning, Gregory did as well. Christian coughed softly and cleared his throat. Jumping, Satine did the same.  
  
"In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit," said Evelyn, crossing herself. Everyone followed her. "Bless us, oh Lord, and these Your gifts, which we are about to receive from Your bounty through Christ Our Loud, Amen."  
  
"Amen." repeated the rest of the table. Evelyn picked up her fork and took a bite of her salad. As usual, the rest of the table followed her example.  
  
Dinner was remarkably and oddly frightening. Courses lasted for an eternity with the pleasant chatter Satine was accustomed to from her months in the mountains. Annette, normally so animated, was subdued to silence. Gregory's sarcasm was silenced. Thomas didn't attempt to look anywhere but his plate. Christian seemed slightly agitated at this silent, which he no doubt remembered from his childhood. Jeremy regulated the conversations, at first speaking only to Evelyn, then only to Gregory. And then, out of the blue, he turned to Satine, who paled.  
  
"And you, Miss Julia? How do you like England?"  
  
Satine quickly swallowed her forkful of roasted pheasant. "I enjoy England very much, Mr. Deveraux."  
  
"Rather hasty judgment, considering you haven't seen anything but London and the mountains."  
  
Annette almost choked. That last sentence out of her father had almost sounded pleasant!  
  
Satine smiled hestiatantly at him. "Yes, sir, but I like it just the same."  
  
"This summer you'll see the seashore. And the country in the spring is better than any mountains."  
  
Satine looked at him oddly. "Will I?"  
  
"Well," said Jeremy, pausing his fork over his fowl. "We go every year to those places. Do you not want to?"  
  
Satine shook her head quickly. "Oh, yes, Mr. Deveraux. I'd love to go."  
  
He nodded. "Of course, after you're married. Do you have any preferance as to when, Miss Julia?"  
  
"As soon as possible," she responded quickly.  
  
"And you'll want to invite family, I suppose." he said.  
  
Satine shook her head. "I have no family."  
  
"I know your parents died, lass, but what about other people?"  
  
Satine bit her lip pensively. "I have none-" she paused for a moment, and idea coming to mind. "Except for my Uncle Harold and Aunt Marie."  
  
Jeremy nodded. "They'll attend, of course."  
  
Satine nodded as well. "I suppose they will, Mr. Deveraux."  
  
"Then it's settled. I'll have Father Langston over for supper tomorrow- tell the cook that, Evie. And, by the way, Miss Julia-" he hesitated. "Call me Father."  
  
Satine felt a blush rise to her cheeks with pride. "Certainly, Father."  
  
Jeremy rose from the table, signaling that dinner was over. "Christian, I need to speak with you."  
  
Christian blinked, startled. "Of course, Father." he got up and started after Jeremy. He looked over at Satine and smiled.  
  
~*~  
  
Jeremy's office was furnished with shelves made of dark cherrywood and burdened with volumes of thick books. There was an imposing desk that was made of the same wood and covered with neat piles of paper and ledgers filled with neat little columns of numbers. There was a dark green carpet and a dark green leather chair. The heavy curtains were green. There was a white marble bust of Caesar. Over the dark green marble fireplace was a portrait of Evelyn on their wedding day.  
  
All in all, the room was not exactly a welcoming one.   
  
Christian stood there nervously, waiting for his father to turn, which he did a few minutes later. He had been standing over his desk, studying a ledger.  
  
"I disowned you, Christian." he said slowly.  
  
Christian nodded. "I know that, Father."  
  
"I took you out of my will." he continued.  
  
Christian nodded again. "I expected that, Father."  
  
Jeremy shut the ledger and moved around to the other side of the desk. "I was certain you would never come back, and waste your life in Montmartre. You have much potential, Christian."  
  
Christian swallowed and nodded. "I know, Father."  
  
"When you left, Christian, you were determined to prove me wrong. What happened to your dream of becoming a writer?"  
  
"I still have them, Father." he said, his voice becoming more relaxed.  
  
"Then what happened?" Jeremy sounded oddly gentle.  
  
"I fell in love, Father." Christian replied easily.  
  
"Would you have returned if she had not been ill?"  
  
Christian shook his head. "No, Father."  
  
"And why not?"  
  
Christian held his head high. "Julia knew what I wanted to do with my life, and she approved."  
  
"So you would allow a lady of her culture to destroy her place in society to marry you? Has your mother and I taught you nothing, Christian?"  
  
"We love one another, Father."  
  
"I understand that, Christian."  
  
"Father, I am aware that you do not approve of me. Believe me, had it been my choice, I would have never come here. But Julia was sick, and I had no where else to go. I will leave if you want me."  
  
Jeremy was silent for a moment, before chuckling. "You are just like me, Christian."  
  
Christian looked at him, surprised.  
  
"Determined. Won't take nonsense from anyone. Even," he looked hard at his son. "Your venerable father." he waved a hand. "I have returned you to my will, Christian. You will receive your fortune, under the stipulation that you watch after your sister, as previously stated. Go ahead. Marry the girl. Go abroad for your honeymoon. But when you return-" he watched his son with eyes as cold and as hard as steel. "You will help me run the family business."  
  
Christian took his time thinking. "I need to think this over." he said carefully.   
  
"What is there to think over?" thundered Jeremy.  
  
Christian raised his chin. "I will discuss this with my wife. Excuse me."  
  
With that, he left his father's office. He would have felt completely discouraged, had it not been for the small detail that elated him.  
  
His father liked Satine. 


	5. Poetry causes lapses of the senses

Disclaimer: *yawn* I know they don't belong to me.... you know they don't belong to me... let's move on.  
This chapter is dedicated to the lovely people who are still reading and reviewing... I love you all... and too my Moulin Rouge Molls, Karita and Hannah. I have also heard that we have a new Rougette, which I will not disclose 'til later. Yeah. Suffer.  
  
  
Satine sat at the vanity, brushing her hair slowly. Her hair flowed down her back in auburn ripples as she gently ran the brush down the length of her hair.  
  
The door opened, and Satine looked in the mirror to see the door. It was Christian.  
  
"Thank God," she murmured under her breath, flying across the room and into his arms.   
  
"I was so worried- what did your father say?" she asked him, her head lying on his shoulder.  
  
Christian chuckled, smoothing his hand over her silky hair.  
  
"He likes you." he said right off.  
  
Satine pulled away from him, smiling radiantly. "Does he really? Oh, I'm so glad. By the way you and Annette spoke of him I expected an ogre, but he isn't all that bad. What else did he say?"  
  
Christian smiled. Satine still wasn't over her silent few weeks and was prone to chatter away.  
  
"He asked me why I gave up being a writer."  
  
Satine sat back down at the vanity, brush in hand. She looked at him, startled. "But you didn't." She said doubtfully.  
  
"I know I didn't. He thought I had, because I came back here. I explained it was because of you."  
  
Satine looked down. "I'm sorry about that."  
  
Christian crossed over the vanity and stood behind her, taking the brush from her and starting to run it through her hair.  
  
"It wasn't you fault, darling."  
  
Satine gave a little half-smile.  
  
"I'm glad we're here," continued Christian. "If not, Mamma and Annette would've never met you."  
  
Satine sighed. "I suppose." she flashed a smile. "What else did he say?"  
  
A dark look flashed over Christian's face, and Satine turned, concerned. Christian put down the brush and took Satine's hand. He led her over to the bed, where they both sat down.  
  
"Darling, there's something we need to discuss."  
  
Satine swallowed hard and looked at Christian with eyes filled with thinly-veiled fear. "Yes?" she said, slightly shakily.  
  
"My father agrees to have us remarried.. He wants us to go on the Grand Tour for our honeymoon-" Satine's face brightened. "But," Satine's face fell. "When we returned, I would have to work for my father."  
  
Satine looked down at their hands on her lap, and twisted the ring they were using as her 'wedding' ring.  
  
"And you would hate that." she said quietly.  
  
Christian lifted her chin. 'Satine, staying here wouldn't be all that bad. You would have loads of friends, and Mamma would always have you going to parties and teas, and we could go on vacations whenever we wished..."  
  
"And if I got sick again there would be no problems." she finished.  
  
"You won't get sick again." Christian promised fervently.  
  
"But if I did," she continued, "We'd be here." she looked around the cozy room. "in this house." she shivered. "Nothing can go wrong in this house, can it, Christian?"  
  
The question asked with such child-like simplicity Christian couldn't help squeezing her hand. "No, my love. Nothing can go wrong here."  
  
Satine moved closer and lay her head on Christian's shoulder. "But you'd be unhappy. I don't want that."  
  
"But if we left, then we'd have nothing. And then you'd be unhappy."  
  
Satine pulled away and looked at him. "I couldn't be unhappy. Not if I was with you."  
  
Christian watched her carefully. "Darling, it wouldn't be like it was before when you came to visit. There would be no where else to go."  
  
Satine stuck her chin out obstinately. "I wouldn't want to."  
  
Christian laughed. "You say that now, my darling. You think this all one big adventure. But it's not all fun and games. Sometimes you have to choose between being full or being warm. You're not used to that, dearest."  
  
Satine snorted. "And you are?" she said, pointedly glancing around the room.  
  
"This is not a game, Satine." he said quietly.  
  
Satine drew herself up to sit up as straight as possible. "In case you forgot, darling, I lived in poverty for most of my childhood. So, yes, I have some comprehension of what I'm getting myself into."  
  
"But you're not used to it anymore." he countered.  
  
"I get used to it." Satine said in a controlled fury.  
  
"No you won't." he replied.  
  
"Why not?" she said coldly. "You did."  
  
At that moment, and invisible bell was rung, and the round was over. Satine moved closer to Christian.  
  
"Oh, darling, let's not fight."  
  
Christian shook his head in agreement. Satine snuggled up against him. "Too bad there isn't some compromise we can come to."  
  
"There isn't, love."  
  
"I know."  
  
This time Christian moved away to face Satine. "Darling, living here would be grand. You'd love it here."  
  
"But you'd hate it."  
  
"I would not." he said forcefully.  
  
"Would too."  
  
"Would not." he whined.  
  
"You sound like Annette." Satine said pointed out.  
  
"I didn't take you from Montmartre to compromise what you're accustomed to." he said, running his hand through his hair.  
  
"And I didn't come with you to have you be unhappy for my sake." she countered.  
  
"And I won't have you suffer for me."  
  
They sat in silence for a few minutes, on opposite ends of the bed, backs to one another. Satine laughed suddenly.  
  
Christian turned to face her. What could she possibly find amusing in this horrible dilemma?  
  
"This," she said between her laughs "This is out problem, Christian."  
  
Christian moved towards where she was, and she flung herself at him, resting her head on his leg and wrapping her arms around his waist.  
  
"What is, darling?"  
  
"We love each other too much." she said with absolute sincerity.  
  
"What?" burst out Christian in surprise.  
  
Satine nodded. "Uh huh." she sat up. "That's right. You want me to be happy, and I want you to be happy, and neither things coincide."  
  
"So we're at a stalemate." Christian said.  
  
She nodded again. "I won't sacrifice your happiness."  
  
"And I won't sacrifice yours." he said definitely.  
  
They looked at one another, identical grins playing on their lips. "This is pathetic." Satine said.  
  
"Agreed."  
  
Satine reached out and stroked his cheek. "I love you."  
  
Christian nodded. "I know."  
  
Satine laughed. "Conceited."  
  
"I love you too."  
  
"That's better."  
  
The kiss was sweet. Things would have gone further had there not been a knock on the door.  
  
"Dammit!" cursed Christian.  
  
"Shh!" hissed Satine, buttoning her dress back up. "Who is it?"  
  
"Annette." said Annette.  
  
"Go away!" bellowed Christian.  
  
"What is it, Annette?" asked Satine a bit breathlessly.  
  
"Papa wants to see you."  
  
"Who?" came Christian's angered voice.  
  
"Julia."  
  
Christian's eyes sought Satine's eyes in the darkness. Her eyes refused to meet his as she looked straight ahead into the darkness that surrounded them.  
  
"Tell him I'm on my way, Annette." Satine said carefully, speaking very clearly.  
  
"Alright!" she called, walking away. Satine and Christian both listened as her footsteps died away.  
  
"I bet I know what he wants to talk about." Satine said between gritted teeth.  
  
"You don't have to go." Christian said quietly.   
  
Satine looked at him carefully before raising her chin. "Yes, I do." She turned on the oil lamp next to the bed and climbed off, moving to the mirror to smooth her hair back and button her dress up properly. Without looking at him for fear of crumbling, Satine walked out.  
  
The wood banister was smooth and cool underneath her hand. Satine gripped it like a lifeline. She gripped the skirt of her dress to keep her hand from trembling. She was more scared than she cared to admit, but unless you knew her very well, you would not have been able to tell. She walked down the stairs with the grace worthy of a princess. Her face was perfectly composed, without a trace of emotion. And it would have stayed that way if it had not been for Gregory, who came galloping up the stairs at that minute.  
  
Satine felt her confidence waver at his foolish grin.  
  
"Well, hello, Julia. Where might you be off to?"   
  
"To speak to your father." She started to move down the stairs. He jumped in front of her. "Please let me pass."  
  
"Tsk tsk, Julia. Are we trying to leave a conversation without excusing ourselves? For shame."  
  
Satine's temper flared. "I wasn't having a conversation with you. Now move aside, you foolish boy, and let me pass."  
  
Gregory shook his head. "Don't think I will. You know, Julia, you have terrible manners."  
  
"And what do you call this?" Satine asked pointedly. "Proper etiquette?" She tried to side step him, he moved in her way again. Frustrated, Satine grabbed his wrist and moved his arm.  
  
Within an instant, he had grabbed her wrist and twisted it. Satine gasped in pain. "Don't get fresh now, Miss Julia. We don't allow that here."  
  
"Who do you think you are?" Satine spat viciously, ignoring the pain that was shooting up her arm.  
  
Gregory let her go as quickly as he had grabbed her. He shrugged, and smiled pleasantly. "Just a guy trying to protect his family." he attempted to pinch her cheek. Satine slapped his hand away, glaring. "Enjoy yourself, Julia." whistling a merry little tune, Gregory continued up the stairs.  
  
Satine leaned against the rail for a moment, catching her breath. Gregory had scared her. There was something off about that boy, something that didn't fit. It was something that would bear more thought when Jeremy Deveraux wasn't awaiting her arrival.  
  
Re-affixing her smile, Satine held her head up high and walked to the door of Jeremy's office. She knocked softly.  
  
"Come in." said the old man's gruff voice.  
  
Satine opened the door and slid in, as if opening the door more would disturb the eerie silence that shrouded the office. Jeremy had his back to her, and was thumbing through a book. He turned when he heard her footsteps.  
  
Satine stood in the doorway, uncertain as of what to do.  
  
"Ah. Julia. Sit down, my dear. I don't bite."   
  
Satine took a shuddery breath and smiled gracefully, lowering herself into a hard wood-and-leather chair.  
  
"I trust dinner was to your satisfaction." Jeremy said. Satine nodded, smiling.  
  
"Yes, Mr. Dev- Father." He nodded.  
  
"And I am assured that Christian has reported to you my proposition."  
  
Satine nodded again. "Yes, sir."  
  
"And?"  
  
Satine looked at the old man carefully. "We have been debating it ever since."  
  
"Pray, be frank, Julia. Tell me what you think."  
  
Satine bit her lip. She wasn't at all sure of what to do.  
  
"I think," she began. "I think that you are wrong to even consider it."  
  
Jeremy raised an eyebrow. "Do you? Continue."  
  
"Well," started Satine. "Christian left to pursue his own happiness as a writer, a happiness you would not allow him. Now we come back- and I assure you, it was not of Christian's own will, but because of my illness- and you want to hound him into taking up the business again. Have you no shame, Mr. Deveraux?"  
  
"What do you want to do, Julia?" Satine stood up to be at eye level with him.  
  
"I want to leave. I don't need a big wedding, I don't need a honeymoon. I don't care about any of that. I'd be perfectly happy living in a garret somewhere."  
  
Jeremy chortled with delight. "Would you, Julia? A lady such as yourself could never be comfortable in such squalid conditions."  
  
"I'd survive." she said through gritted teeth.  
  
"And what does Christian say about all this?" Jeremy asked.  
  
"He wants to sacrifice his happiness for my own."  
  
"Pause for a moment, Julia, and let an old man gather his thoughts. You want to live in poverty to ensure Christian's happiness, and he wants to live the life he left in order to preserve your way of life."  
  
"That is correct."  
  
"Seems as though you have a bit of a problem then, don't you?" He said simply.  
  
Satine sat back down. Her outburst had left her a bit dizzy. She hated this weakness. The doctor had warned her of this, and that she would be this way for quite a while. Thinking of that, whatever had become of Clara?  
  
"Permit me to think aloud, Julia," Jeremy said. "Christian is willing to give up his happiness for your comfort. You are willing to give up your comfort for his happiness."  
  
"I know this already," Satine snapped irritably. She was suddenly tired of the whole idea, her head ached, and she wanted nothing more than to lie down and sleep, and forget about everything.  
  
"Yet I need someone to work for me, preferably one of my sons." Jeremy continued smoothly, ignoring Satine.  
  
"Take Gregory. He seems pretty keen to join your staff. Smart too, from what I've heard. Christian isn't good with figures." Satine said wearily, massaging her temples with her fingers.  
  
"That's what you have bankers for, dear." Jeremy chuckled. "Gregory is quite a smart boy, I agree with you completely. But I regret to admit that my younger son is not very ethical."  
  
"But he wants to work for you. That should be enough." Satine said. She wanted nothing more than to go to her room and be with Christian.  
  
Jeremy drew himself to his full height in indignation. "My company, Miss Julia, is known for it's fairness and probity. Gregory is not the man for the job."  
  
"And neither is Christian. He hates it." stated Satine hotly. They were both fighting a losing battle.  
  
There was a long pause in the dialogue. It was enough to restore Satine's thinking to clarity.  
  
"Julia, I have a proposition for you." said Jeremy, almost lyrically.  
  
"Yes?" asked Satine warily.  
  
"What if, after the wedding, and the honeymoon, and all that other nonsense young people go through after weddings, Christian comes and works for me as a trial period. After a time- say, six months- Christian can come to me. If he wants to stay on, good. If he doesn't, he is free to go."  
  
Satine was watching him with a cautious eye as he walked around the room.  
  
"And of his inheritance?" Satine said.  
  
Jeremy waved a hand. "If his work is satisfactory, he may keep it. Consider it a wedding present."  
  
Satine was still careful. "And I have your word on this?"  
  
Jeremy held his right hand up. "On my honor."  
  
Satine shook her head. "Not good enough. I require two forms of conviction on my part." She stood up and searched his shelves of books. Finally she found it- a gleaming copy of the Bible. It was obvious the good book had hardly been touched. She held it out to him. "Swear it."  
  
Jeremy seemed to find it amusing, yet he indulged her and put his left hand on the Bible and held his right hand up. "I, Jeremy Deveraux, swear that Christian may work for me for six months after his honeymoon, may leave if not content, and will still receive his inheritance."  
  
Satine nodded. "And here..." she motioned to his desk. "I want it in writing."  
  
"You do not trust me?"  
  
The question was balanced carefully, and for a moment, Satine was unsure of what to say. Then she held her head up high and shook her head. "Not when it comes to Christian. There, I trust no one but myself."  
  
Jeremy watched this rather remarkable young lady with interest. He had never met anyone like her. She was quick, charming and intelligent. She was the first woman Jeremy had actually considered worthy of his time, besides his darling Evelyn. He smiled slowly and moved behind his desk.  
  
He took his time, and when he handed it to Satine, she noticed it was in both French and English. Satine looked up at him with fear in her eyes. What did he know?  
  
"You are French, are you not?" Jeremy asked. Had he been anyone but Jeremy, his voice would have had a trace of uncertainty.  
  
Satine nodded absent-mindedly as she skimmed it. She looked back up at Jeremy. "This seems satisfactory."  
  
He held the pen out to her. "Then you must sign as well."  
  
Satine glanced at him, startled. "Me?"  
  
"As for Christian, of course."  
  
Satine shook her head. "I am sorry, Mr. Dev- Father. I must discuss this with him first."  
  
"Always this ridiculous consultation! You know him as well as you know yourself, you know he will be satisfied, why don't you just sign it?!" said Jeremy in utter frustration.  
  
As quickly as Satine had begun to warm up to him she turned frigid. "It's called respect, Mr. Deveraux. I will discuss this matter with my husband and that is all there is to it." She held the paper tightly in her hand as she moved to the door. "Please excuse me."  
  
She walked up the stairs, gripping the banister as she had before. Christian's father and brother both seemed a little odd. There was something not right with this family, she thought. Something was off. Something sinister.  
  
Oh, you silly girl! Came Satine's conscious in reply. You're making something out of nothing. You're just anxious.  
  
Besides, what could a few men do to her? She was Satine, the Sparkling Diamond- and now she was Julia Deveraux, wife of Christian Deveraux. Or, at least, she would be, soon. She decided right then and there that Satine and Julia were not two different people. Satine didn't take nonsense from anybody, and neither would Julia. Julia would not be a meek and mild society lady. She had her reputation as a wildcat to protect, even if no one knew it. Satine was a bit confused now. Who had her reputation to protect? Satine was the wildcat, but if Julia and Satine were the same person, did Julia have the same connotation? And if she did, who could have given it to her, seeing as Julia had surfaced for the first time this afternoon after a little less than a decade of hibernation? And how could Satine ever expect herself to answer to herself if she even called herself Satine in her own thoughts?   
  
How long had it taken Satine to become Satine and leave Julia behind?  
  
Whatever or whoever she was, it mattered not. Under the whole name thing, she was just herself. End of story.  
  
Yes, she would remain her spit-fire self. They could change her name, confuse her, and maybe even scare her out of her mind, but they could not take her identity.  
  
With that thought, she continued up the stairs.  
  
~*~  
  
Christian was lying on the bed, reading a book. He looked up when she entered.  
  
"What happened?" he said immediately, rising off the bed.  
  
Satine wordlessly handed him the paper. Out of habit, Christian's eyes instantly moved to the French part, which he skimmed. It then occurred to him to read the English version, which he did.  
  
A few minutes, after rereading it numerous times, he looked up at Satine.  
  
"What does this mean?"  
  
"Exactly what it says, my love."  
  
He re-read it again. "No. This is too good to be true."  
  
Satine smiled and nodded. "It's true, darling. Cross my heart."  
  
"So, it's like a trial period."  
  
Satine nodded again. "In a way, yes. And we get it all, dearest." She put a hand on his arm. "But only if it pleases you. If you don't like it, forget it."  
  
"This is- wonderful, Satine!" He exclaimed, picking her up and twirling her around. She giggled madly.   
  
"You like it?"  
  
"Like it? This is better than anything I could have hoped for!"  
  
For a moment they stared at one another with fanatic intensity.   
  
"You blinked." Christian said.  
  
"Did not."  
  
"Did too."  
  
"So did you." Satine returned.  
  
"Did not." Christian retorted.  
  
Satine traced a finger up his chest. "You know... I think some poetry might be appropriate. You know, for a celebration."  
  
"Do you?" Christian said, sounding quite amused.  
  
"Oh, yes." Satine said seriously, nodding. She straightened his collar. "Talent is so hard to find these days, but poetry is so lovely..."  
  
"I think I could arrange for a poetry reading." Christian said modestly.  
  
"Do you?" she said with a playful tone.  
  
"I think I could manage it."  
  
"I'd be much obliged, sir."  
  
They kissed between giggles, for they were both laughing hysterically.  
  
"Come, feel the poetry, Satine." Christian taunted.  
  
"Ooh, how I love talent, darling."  
  
They looked at one another again and cracked up.  
  
~*~  
  
The next morning at breakfast everyone was very quiet, with the exception of Christian and Satine, to whom everything seemed hilarious. They laughed at everything. Whereas Evelyn and Annette found it delightful, Gregory found it irritating.  
  
"Would you please explain what is so amusing so we can have as much humor in our breakfast as you have in yours?"  
  
Satine and Christian looked at one another and bit their lips to contain their shared glee.  
  
"Oh, leave them alone, you jealous tatterdemalion." Annette retorted.  
  
"Know how to spell that, Annie?" taunted Greg.  
  
Christian and Satine fell to pieces.  
  
"T-A-T-T-E-R-D-"  
  
Evelyn kept her smile in check. "Children! Behave!"  
  
"E-M-A-L-I-O-N."  
  
"Dunce!" said Gregory.  
  
"I spelled it right!"  
  
"It's like some mad show!" cried Satine. Both she and Christian dissolved into laughter.  
  
"Mamma, may I have the cream?" asked Thomas, the only one of the 'children' behaving.  
  
"Children, please!" Evelyn cried.  
  
"Mamma?"  
  
"Ignoramus!"  
  
"Gregory!"  
  
"This is hilarious!"  
  
"Children-"  
  
"Half-wit!"  
  
"Vexatious!"  
  
"Spell it!"  
  
"V-E-X-"  
  
"Never had so much fun at home-"  
  
"A-T-I-"  
  
"MAMMA?"  
  
"Children!"  
  
"O-U-"  
  
"WILL YOU ALL BE QUIET?" roared Jeremy.  
  
Instantly, the pleas, spelling, taunting, and giggles abated.  
  
"I do not intend to eat my breakfast with such cacophony. You will all cease this nonsense at ONCE." Jeremy, without waiting for a response, dug into his sausage savagely.  
  
Satine and Christian looked at one another. They both hid their faces in their napkins.  
  
Jeremy looked at them coldly. "And to what do you attribute this sudden absurdity?"  
  
"Dinner mints." announced Christian promptly. It was too much for Satine, who once again burst into hysterics.  
  
Annette watched Satine as she turned red, and felt a giggle bubble up within herself. She too started to snicker.  
  
Evelyn sighed wearily. "Annette... Julia... please, dears, do control yourselves."  
  
"Yes. Behave like CIVILIZED people, girls." chided Gregory.  
  
"Spell it." Annette threw back.  
  
Jeremy stood up. The austere gentleman looked pointedly at Christian and Satine, who was slowly but surely gaining control over herself.  
  
"I'd like to talk to you both after breakfast. Excuse me."  
  
And Jeremy was gone.  
  
Satine and Christian exchanged glances, all traces of laughter gone. Was Jeremy going to retract his offer?  
  
They wordlessly stood up, with a murmured 'Excuse us', and disappeared.  
  
~*~  
  
Christian opened the door, and pushed Satine in. Jeremy sat at his desk going over some papers. He looked up.  
  
"Ah. Miss Julia and my wayward son. Have you any excuse for your appalling behavior this morning?"  
  
Christian looked at his father seriously. "I'm afraid, sir, that we both have been reading too much poetry lately. It's effected our brains."  
  
Satine nodded sedately in agreement. "Oh, yes, Father. Too much poetry causes lapses of the senses. Last night we read a particularly lovely verses and had to study it for quite some time."  
  
"Oh yes." Christian added. "Quite a shame."  
  
Neither looked at the other for fear of hysteria.  
  
Jeremy nodded. "Have you considered my proposal?"  
  
Christian looked at Satine then. She quirked her head in a motion that said, whatever you want to do, I'll do it.  
  
Christian nodded. "Yes, Father."   
  
Jeremy looked at Satine. "Julia, be a dear and fetch the paper for us to sign."  
  
Satine agreed, excused herself, and hurried up to her room.  
  
She found it, and was going back down the stairs when she heard the door open and was in the hall to go to the study.  
  
"Yes, this is the Deveraux home." She heard the butler Chauncy say.   
  
She paused in the shadows.  
  
"A telegram." came a strange voice.  
  
"Oh, yes." Chauncy must have taken it, for the door closed.  
  
"Chauncy?" came Annette's voice, her light footsteps echoing across the wooden expanse of the front hall.  
  
"Yes, Miss Annette?"  
  
"What is that?"  
  
"A telegram, Miss."  
  
"For who?"  
  
"It doesn't say, Miss."  
  
"May I take it, then?"  
  
"I was going to take it to Mrs. Deveraux, Miss."  
  
"Please?" wheedled Annette. Satine smiled. Christian had already told her that Annette could get whatever she wanted out of old Chauncy, who favored Annette.  
  
With a sigh, Chauncy must have handed it over, for Annette gave a squeal of joy.  
  
"Oh, thank you, Chauncy!"  
  
Because Satine entered the study then, she didn't hear Annette anxiously tear open the envelop that held the telegram.  
  
Nor did she hear the gasp that followed it.  
  
Instead, she scratched her name (Julia Deveraux) alongside Christian's and Jeremy's.  
  
Satine studied it for a long time. She was a Deveraux. Supposedly. She belonged.  
  
Grinning, Jeremy dismissed them.  
  
Christian and Satine left the study and were both in rather high spirits when Annette, white-faced, grabbed Christian's arm.  
  
"Good heavens, Annette, you look like you've seen a ghost. What happened, old girl?" Christian asked good-naturedly, prying Annette's hand off his arm.  
  
"I might as well have."  
  
"What is that?" Christian asked, grabbing for the telegram. "Well?"  
  
"It's from... it's from..." Annette stuttered.  
  
"Who?" asked Christian.  
  
Annette gulped. "It- it's from Violet, Christie." 


	6. No shrinking Violet

Part 6: No shrinking Violet  
  
Author's note: In this chapter I begin the transition from Satine to Julia. When Satine acting, or when Christian is thinking about her or with her, she is referred to as Satine. When it anyone else, she is referred to as Julia. Just remember that Julia=Satine, and you'll be fine. :-)  
  
  
  
Christian turned a frightening shade of white as he took the telegram with a shaking hand. He calmly read it.  
  
Satine looked from Annette to Christian anxiously. Whoever this Violet person was, she doubted it was good.  
  
Christian handed the telegram back to Annette. "Does Mamma know?" he asked.  
  
Annette nodded. "I just showed it to her."  
  
Christian ran a hand through his dark hair. Satine put a hand on his arm. He looked at her, startled, as if he had forgotten she was there.   
  
"Who's Violet?" she asked softly.  
  
Annette and Christian exchanged glances. They knew she would have to find out sooner or later.  
  
"Violet is my older half-sister, darling." Christian said gently. "From my father's first marriage."  
  
"Is that all?" Satine asked, laughing lightly. "Oh, you worried me there, dear. I was afraid it was something serious."  
  
"It is serious." said Annette. "Violet is wretched and she's coming. She heard Christie had come home, or something, and she felt she had to welcome him."  
  
Christian shook his head. "I'm afraid none of us ever really liked Violet. She was horrible to our mother, and still is. She hates in me and Annette in particular."  
  
"How charming." Satine breezed, unaware of the seriousness. "Any particular reason?"  
  
"I'm the only other girl and he's the first born after her." supplied Annette. "Her mother died when she was really young, and Papa married Mamma right after. Violet never forgave Mamma, and then she really hated all of us."  
  
"We were never very nice to her when we were little. Mamma told us she was our sister but no one ever liked her much." said Christian. "And she was horrible to us."  
  
Annette nodded in agreement. "She'd smash our toys, or break things and blame it on us. Papa always took her side because he felt she was outnumbered, and Mamma preferred not to get involved."  
  
"So, he favored Violet?" Satine was getting dizzy. Add another level to the already confusing Deveraux family circle.  
  
"He did when we were children. She grew up to be a ghastly young lady. No one wanted to marry her because she was so disagreeable." said Annette. "She's horrid, and she knew it."  
  
"And so goes the story of Violet Deveraux." said Christian.  
  
"And now she's coming." said Annette mournfully. "I do wish she wasn't."  
  
"Now, now," Satine said diplomatically. "She can't be all that bad. You told me your father was terrible and he's not. I'm sure Violet is a lovely girl. Now, let's go tell your father."  
  
Christian and Annette shook their heads vehemently. "No!"  
  
"Why not?"   
  
"Father will be furious. He doesn't like it when Violet comes to visit." Annette said in a terrified whisper.   
  
"He will be very angry, darling. It'd be best to let Mamma tell him." Christian said.  
  
Satine tossed her head with a carefree laugh. "You are all petrified of your father, and I think it's a shame. I'll go and tell him if you won't."  
  
With that, Satine turned on her heel and started towards the office.  
  
"Don't!" cried Christian and Annette. With a shared fearful glance, they bolted after her and arrived just as she knocked.  
  
"Come in." they heard.  
  
It was too late. Now they had to tell him.  
  
Christian and Annette gulped.  
  
~*~  
  
"WHAT?" roared Jeremy with such force Christian, Satine and Annette shrunk away from him. The telegram he held in his hand quivered. "I TOLD HER NOT TO COME BACK HERE!"  
  
Annette timidly opened her mouth to speak. "Papa, I was thinking that maybe-"  
  
"Quiet, girl!" bellowed Jeremy.  
  
Annette trembled violently. 'Excuse me." she whimpered, and she ran out of the room.  
  
Christian and Satine exchanged glances. Jeremy smiled apologetically at Satine. "Julia, dear, I'm afraid that there's been some family discord in the past year with my daughter Violet."  
  
Satine nodded. "I see."  
  
"And now-" the telegram was dropped to the desktop and viciously slammed into the surface by the irate Jeremy's fist. "She decides to come back. I will not have it!"  
  
"I think it's too late, Father. She said she'd be here on the five o'clock train tomorrow." Christian said.  
  
"I'll wire her."  
  
But the smooth Sparkling Diamond intervened. "Now, Father..." she said in a smooth, velvety tone. "There's no need to get upset. There's nothing we can do for the present." she smiled sweetly. "So, we'll prepare for a guest, and deal with Miss Violet accordingly when she arrives." She batted her eyelashes innocently. "Doesn't that sound a great deal more reasonable than wiring an angry telegram?"  
  
Jeremy looked at her with a wondrous expression. "Julia, that is just the thing to do." He looked at Christian with a disgusted looked. "Now why didn't you think of that, boy?"  
  
Satine preened next to him, and Christian smiled dryly. "Guess it didn't occur to me.  
  
Jeremy coughed and waved them away.  
  
"Leave, both of you."  
  
Satine smiled pleasantly. "Don't you worry, Father. I'm sure you'll think of something."  
  
Jeremy smiled. "Thank you, my dear."  
  
Christian pulled Satine out.  
  
~*~  
  
Satine twirled her parasol. The afternoon sun was pleasant, and the weather was quite warm for February. They were walking through Evelyn's rose gardens. There we no roses, but the lay-out of the garden was extraordinary. It was a maze of curving cobblestone paths, with a walled garden in the far right corner. There were ponds that had been emptied for the winter with Greek and Roman statues decorating them and little mosaic tiles. There was a beautifully carved wooden gazebo in the center.  
  
"That's where Annette's going to be married." Christian said. Satine looked at him.   
  
"Annette's engaged?" she asked.  
  
"All but. She's been courting George Carter since before I left. He should be proposing soon."  
  
A thought came into Satine's mind, and her stomach churned as tendrils of green grabbed hold of her mind.  
  
"So... have you ever been engaged, Christian?" she asked lightly.  
  
Christian chuckled. "Almost." he replied.  
  
Satine jerked her arm away from him jealously. "To who?" she asked irritably.  
  
"To Michelle Wittinger. We courted for a few years. Then she met George Carter's brother, Michael. They've been married for a few months now. They're expecting their first baby soon."  
  
"So, it's Michael and Michelle Carter?" The green retreated from her mind and Satine smiled again, taking Christian's arm.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"That's horrible."  
  
"I know."  
  
"Christian and Satine go good together." she said dreamily, spinning her parasol again and looking off into the distance. "But we're not supposed to be Christian and Satine, are we? We're Christian and Julia now."  
  
Christian squeezed her arm. "Yes, darling."  
  
Satine looked at him. "What will you call me, when we're alone? Julia or Satine?"  
  
Christian studied her. "I suppose I'll cross that bridge when we come to it, don't you think?"  
  
"No. I want to know. Because Julia is... is... this new me. The English society me." she drew herself to her full height and pretended to drink a cup of tea with her pinkie extended. "The proper young lady." she said in a confident English accent. "And Satine is the..." she looked down and kicked at a stone in the path. "The courtesan."  
  
Christian put a finger under her chin and made her look at him. "No, my love. No. Satine is the woman I fell in love with."  
  
Tears caught Satine by surprise when they sprang to her eyes. "Can you love Julia?"  
  
Christian shook his head, and when he spoke his voice was hoarse with emotion. "I don't care what your name is. I don't care if you're Julia or Satine or Annette or Violet or even Nini or Mome Fromage. I would love you no matter what your name was."  
  
"Even if it was something horrid like Enid?" Satine said with a laugh.  
  
"I have an aunt named Enid." Christian said thoughtfully. Satine hit him. "What? I do!"  
  
A cold breeze whipped around them, and involuntarily, Satine shivered.  
  
Christian looked at her with a concerned look. "Why don't we go inside, darling? It's cold out here."  
  
Satine cocked an eyebrow. "You seem to have the body heat of a salamander. It's wonderful out here."  
  
"You have one of a polar bear." he shot back. "It's frigid. And I do NOT want you getting sick again."  
  
"I won't."  
  
"Please?"  
  
Ignoring him, she glided over to a stone bench and sat down. She smiled winningly at him, patting the space next to her.  
  
Defeated, Christian sat down.  
  
Satine snuggled into him. "Now," she drawled. "What happened with Violet?"  
  
Christian stiffened a bit. "Vi disobeyed my father. He disowned her. End of story."  
  
"Like you did?"  
  
There was a deep breath taken there. "No."  
  
Satine pulled away to look him. "No?"  
  
"No. I did because I wanted to get away from a tyrant and write, which I do not believe is a crime." he said, growing defensive. "Violet did it to be malicious and hurt my parents."  
  
"No need to get snippy about it." Satine said in an injured tone.  
  
"Annette told me that while I was gone Violet came back and made a horrible scene. That was when Father told her never to return. And now she is." Christian heaved a heavy sigh. "I see disaster in my future."  
  
Satine moved closer to him. "Our future."  
  
~*~  
  
"Annette." Satine said, reaching out and grabbing Annette's forearm.  
  
"Good morning, Julia." Annette said, raising her eyebrow. Julia's tone sounded rather urgent for ten o'clock in the morning. "Anything troubling you?"  
  
"Why was Violet disowned?" Satine demanded, without returning Annette's pleasantries.  
  
Annette removed her arm from Julia's grip and looked down. "I'm not supposed to talk about it."  
  
Satine snatched her arm again. "Spit it out."  
  
Annette looked around surreptitiously. "Come upstairs." she hissed.  
  
The two looked in both directions before creeping up the stairs, tiptoeing down the hall, and quietly closing Annette's bedroom door.  
  
"Look, I don't remember all that much-" Annette began desperately.  
  
Satine cocked an eyebrow and just watched her.  
  
Annette sighed. "Okay, okay, I do. I remember exactly what happened." she sighed again, and moved to sit down on her chaise lounge. "Violet left home quite some time ago... I was about ten, so Christian was fourteen, and Violet was twenty. Violet had always been a bit spiteful, so she decided to hurt the family the best way she could: to go for our reputation.  
  
"She started hanging around with the servants and vagabonds in this little cafe... Papa didn't like that much, and told her to stop. But that was it. He had always had a soft spot for Violet. She didn't listen.  
  
"Eventually, her own plan backfired and she fell in love with an artist. When she told Papa they wanted to get married, he forbid her. She paid him no mind and ran away with him. That was the last we heard of her until last October.  
  
"Christian had left earlier in the year, so the whole family was not in a general pleasant mode, except for Gregory, of course, who adores trouble and contrariety." Annette stopped here and shuddered. "He's horrid, that brother of mine."  
  
Satine nodded sympathetically. "Go on..."  
  
"Anyway, Violet came back. She looked very angry. She demanded to see Papa, so Chauncy brought her into his office.  
  
"First it was quiet. Then there was yelling. Then there was a crash, and Violet came stalking out. And Papa ran after her and yelled 'If you ever come back here, I'll have your little fantasy destroyed!'" Annette trailed her finger over the velvet pattern of the chaise lounge. "He wouldn't tell any of us about it. And if he told Mamma, she never breathed a word of it."  
  
Julia had a troubled look on her face, and seemed to be deep in thought. Annette waited a few seconds, then waved a hand in front of her face. "Yoo-hoo, Julia." she said. There was no recognition. "Julia!" Annette burst out.   
  
Satine came to with a start. "Oh! Annette! I'm sorry, I was... thinking."  
  
Annette took Julia's hand. "Please don't get involved, Julia. Just let Papa handle Violet. Please. Violet executes nothing but trouble. Please, just leave her be. I'm begging you."  
  
Satine laughed lightly. "Have you no faith in me, Annette?"  
  
Annette's face grew dark with remembrance. "I know my half-sister." she said in an ominous tone. "I don't want you getting involved, and neither will Christie, and neither will Papa."  
  
Satine felt a sudden chill of forewarning. "I won't," she said slowly, squeezing Annette's hand. "I promise. You have my word, I won't get involved."  
  
The sun rose again on Annette's countenance. "Good. Now," she said, rising and pulling Julia up with her. "I want to go shopping. Care to come along?"  
  
~*~  
  
The huge grandfather clock in the main hall had sounded five o'clock fifteen minutes before. And all was not well in the house of the Deverauxs.  
  
Knowing that Violet did not play tricks, they expected her within the next fifteen minutes. There was a general perturbance in the house. Jeremy was irritable because his daughter was returning; Christian was upset that she had to return so soon after his own arrival, for he was certain her presence would bring nothing but misery. After twenty-one years, Evelyn was still nervous around her step-daughter, and always striving to impress her, thus the elaborate (and a little ridiculous) menu and hairstyle. Annette was upset because she couldn't find the pearl necklace she wanted; Thomas was agitated because he couldn't remember how to do his math homework (he could care less about his slightly-mythical older sister), and Satine was just anxious to be meeting another Deveraux- and one that was twice as evil as Christian and Annette had made Jeremy out to be. The only calm one was Gregory.  
  
At 5:20 on the dot the doorbell rang. All members of the Deveraux clan were at their unspoken position: Evelyn in her boudoir; Jeremy in his study; Annette in the parlor, practicing the piano; Thomas in his room; Gregory on the veranda; and Christian and Julia in the library, reading poetry.   
  
Chauncy moved slowly (the old butler was verging on seventy) down the hall and painstakingly opened the door.   
  
"Yes?" he said in the snooty tone all butlers seem to possess.  
  
"Hiya, Chauncy." came the jaunty greeting.  
  
The girl in the hallway was strikingly beautiful. She had a cloud of curly black hair that framed face in a most becoming manner. She was a petite as Julia was tall, and an entire inch shorter than Annette. Everything about her was small and quick. She seemed to be lost in her billowing skirts and flowing peasant blouse that made her look like a gypsy and would certainly make a few Deveraux eyebrows raise. Her skin came to a sharp contrast with her hair, being so pale and creamy it was almost startling. She had naturally arched and fine eyebrows, an upturned nose, and a small mouth.  
  
But most impressive of all were her eyes, that were the color of her namesake and shone mischievously.  
  
Violet looked around the front hall, and sneered at the portrait in the hall. She then turned imperiously to glare at Chauncy.   
  
"Well?" she said. "Aren't you going to announce me or something? I thought that's what the high-hat folk do."  
  
"Yes, ma'am. Please wait here."  
  
"In the hall?" Violet called to Chauncy's retreating back. "Gee, Evelyn's manners must be slipping. I remember when I used to wait in the parlor."  
  
Violet, being the naturally curious person that she was, moved towards the parlor door. She could just hear the slight tinkle of an atrociously played Beethoven sonata.  
  
She smiled and nodded. "Papa didn't want me to frighten off Annette, I suppose."  
  
"What are you doing here?" came the stern voice of Jeremy Deveraux.  
  
Violet turned, grinning. "Why, hello, Papa. How nice to see you."  
  
"Answer my question, Violet."  
  
Violet clucked her tongue. "My, my, my. How polite we are."  
  
"Don't test my patience, girl." Jeremy said dangerously. "I told you not to return. What brings you here?"  
  
Violet dropped her gaze modestly. "Why, I heard my baby brother had returned. I had to greet him accordingly, don't you agree?"  
  
"No." said Jeremy gruffly. "How did you find out?"  
  
Violet shrugged. "Oh... I have my ways. And I've heard he brought a little wifey home. Had to meet her."  
  
"You will do nothing or the sort. You are leaving on the next train."  
  
Violet shook her head. "Oh, I don't think so. I like it here very much, Father, and I think I'll stay a while." She motioned around. "Redecorate?"  
  
"Violet, I'll not have this insolence in my own home. I demand that you leave." Jeremy glowered with a stare that would have reduced anyone us to quaking. Violet, however, held her ground and grinned saucily.  
  
"No, Father, I think I'm gonna stay a while. And you won't kick me out, I know you won't. It'd cause such a scandal, and dear Evelyn would be mortified, and you couldn't bear it, so I know you're going to let me stay."  
  
Jeremy, defeated, glared daggers at his daughter.  
  
Violet flashed a smile that was more malicious than impertinent.  
  
She pushed a lock of her hair back, and grinned widely. She opened her mouth and took a deep breath before bellowing.  
  
"Oh, famileeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee! I'm ba-ack!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" 


	7. The trophy

To Violet's supreme disappointment, there was not a cacophony of slamming doors and pounding feet running to greet her. She didn't show it.  
  
Instead, to Jeremy's utter disgust, she raised her gypsy skirts, exposing far more of her legs than was appropriate and flounced past him.  
  
Annette was sitting at the piano, determined not to give Violet the satisfaction of seeing her nervous. More than her disgust for her, Annette feared her older sister.  
  
She heard the door open, and then shut. A tingle ran down her spine, but continued playing the sonata. Beethoven is my friend, she told herself, and continued to play until she reached the part she could never get. She let out a tiny shriek, and started to replay it, when a tiny pale hand reached over her shoulder and played the segment perfectly.  
  
"Hello, Violet." Annette said coolly.  
  
"Hello, Annette." said Violet, moving to the side so Annette could see her. "What? No hug for your big sister?"  
  
Annette regarded her sister carelessly. "You're not my sister." she said with polite frigidness that would have pleased her mother.  
  
Hurt flashed across Violet's eyes, but she recovered quickly. "My, my, what a discourteous little girl Evelyn is raising."  
  
Annette ignored the bait. "What are you doing here?"  
  
Violet sat down in Jeremy's special leather chair without being asked. Her feet dangled an inch above the floor, and she swung them casually. "I've come to see Christian. And his wife." she snorted. "That is, if he really has one. Why anyone would marry that mouse is beyond me."  
  
"Like manners are?" Annette jibed.  
  
"Ooh. What a barb. Dear me, Annette, I'm hurt."  
  
Annette ignored her. "Yes, he's married."  
  
Violet let out a stream of crystal laughter. "What a pleasant development. Let me guess: she's a plain little thing, as much a mouse as he is, and wouldn't say boo to a goose."  
  
Annette looked at Violet for a moment before bursting out laughter in an unladylike fashion.  
  
"Oh, Violet-" she said between laughs. "If you only knew how wrong you were."  
  
Violet did not enjoy being laughed at, and frowned. She was about to say something when the door was opened.  
  
And there, looking serene, regal, and completely in control of her gilded world, was Evelyn.  
  
She smiled, but Annette could see the strain of the normally genial expression.  
  
"Why, Violet dear, you've come home. How pleasant. You must stay for a while." Evelyn had crossed the room, and now extended her hand to Violet.  
  
Violet pushed her hand away.  
  
"No kiss, Violet?" asked Evelyn in a hurt tone. She had never quite understood Violet's deep-rooted hatred for her. "Very well." She turned to Annette. "Darling, go run and fetch your brothers and Julia. We're having an early dinner in honor of Violet's arrival." she smiled at Violet. "Come, dear, we have so much to catch up on." Once more, Evelyn extended her hand. Violet got up, ignoring Evelyn's gesture. Annette made a face, and ran from the room.  
  
~*~  
  
Evelyn, the considerate lady of society she was, had remembered Violet's favorites, and had asked for them to be served that night. A garden salad, sweet bread, caramelized carrots, a standing rib roast, and for dessert, light, fluffy creme brulée.  
  
By magic, when Violet and Evelyn arrived in the dining room, everyone was already seated.  
  
Violet let her eyes move around the table. First was the empty head of the table near the door. Then was Thomas, her despicable little worm of a half-brother. Then was Gregory, the only brother she considered half-way decent. Then another empty chair. Then, like the king, reigned Jeremy. Then Christian's wife, then Christian, then Annette.  
  
Christian's wife was not, as she had thought, a 'plain little thing'. Violet had to admit that she was quite possibly the most stunning woman she had ever seen. Violet could just see her profile, but she was immediately transfixed. She sat up straight, her backbone stiff as a ramrod that years of good breeding had instilled, just as Evelyn sat, and Annette. Her beautiful mane of red- was it copper-colored? Flame?- hair was piled up on her head. Her skin was as creamy as her own, her lips a faint pink, a perfect nose, and ice blue eyes.  
  
She did not give Violet the satisfaction of turning to look at her. Instead, like the woman of culture Violet was now sure she was, she totally ignored the scandal and stared at the wall ahead.  
  
Violet snapped herself out of it. She was Christian's wife, and she was little prettier than she had expected her to be. Big deal.  
  
But Violet was suddenly more aware of her chaotic cloud of black hair, which she was normally so proud of. Now all she wanted to do was to pull it back into a respectable chignon. Her own nose, which was a perfectly acceptable nose, seemed big and out of proportion. And most of all, her violet eyes, which were her biggest source of pride, which were so unique, now seemed freakish and bizarre.   
  
As quickly as she had entered her funk, she snapped out of it. She lifted her head, her large silver hoops flashing in the light.  
  
She knew that the other head of the table was for Evelyn. She knew it. But, like a naughty little child, she knew what she wanted to do, and it was more important.  
  
And so, Violet flounced herself into Evelyn's chair.  
  
That caught everyone's attention, and Violet got her first glance at Christian's wife's face. She looked like the women in the famous paintings Violet had seen.  
  
Jeremy coughed. "Violet, that's your mother's seat. Get up immediately."  
  
"My mother's dead." said Violet sweetly, slumping in the seat and kicking the table leg.  
  
"Get UP." said Jeremy in a low, dangerous voice.  
  
Violet smirked. "Gee, I think chivalry is dead. Is that any way to treat a lady?"  
  
"I treat ladies by the way they behave. And you are not acting like a lady." Jeremy said bitingly. "Get up. Now."  
  
Glaring, Violet stood up. "Fine. I don't like this seat anyway."  
  
She ran down to her own seat and threw herself into it. The chair creaked.  
  
Violet smiled at Christian's wife. She did not smile back.  
  
"In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit," started Evelyn, crossing herself. Everyone followed her but Violet. "Bless us, oh Lord, and these Your gifts, which we are about to receive from Your bounty through Christ Our Lord, Amen."  
  
"Amen." repeated everyone but Violet, who regarded the entire business with a lip curled in disgust.  
  
"Children, have you said hello to your sister?" prompted Evelyn, allowing Chauncy to spread a napkin over her lap.  
  
"Hello." chorused Christian, Gregory and Thomas. Christian's wife, Violet noticed, said nothing, but set forth a little smile.  
  
"So, Christian." Violet said, taking a bite of bread. "I heard you got married. Whose the little wifey-girl?"  
  
Christian looked disgusted. "Swallow first, then speak, please, Violet. I have no desire to see your masticated food."  
  
Annette developed a sudden coughing fit in order to hide her laughter.  
  
"Violet, this is my wife Julia. Darling, this is Violet."  
  
Satine did not see what was so bad about Violet. She hadn't heard anything that made her seem that bad. In fact, everything she did sounded like a bit of light-hearted fun.  
  
But the entire family wanted her to be a certain way. Christian expected it. His family expected it. It was not a pressure she was entirely unused to, but she did not enjoy it.  
  
They expected her to be haughty and cold. Done. The North Pole was her muse.  
  
"How do you do?" she said coldly, bowing her head in a nod that passed as a greeting.  
  
Every good thought Violet had for Julia before disappeared. Obviously she was the same as the rest of them.  
  
"I do fine, Jules. And yourself?" she said. She had disregarded the normal protocol that dining required and was lounging in her chair.  
  
Satine- or was she Julia?- nodded coldly, this time an unspoken 'yes'.   
  
Violet's eyes searched her's, troubled. Something was different about this one, Violet thought.  
  
Satine felt unsettled. Who was she? She was supposed to be Julia. She was Julia. She had been Julia, and then she was supposed to be Satine, so she became Satine. Now she was Satine, and she was supposed to be Julia. The two names whirled around Satine's head. No, not Satine's head, Julia's head, she corrected herself. I'm supposed to be Julia. Julia Julia Julia Julia...   
  
WHO AM I???????? Screamed Satine, putting her fingertips to her temples.  
  
For a moment she was unsure as to whether or not she had said these words aloud. Every member of the Deveraux clan was watching her.  
  
Satine released a breath she didn't know she had been holding. As she inhaled the confusing tumult of Julias and Satines spun in her head, and she knew she had to escape or unravel in front of everybody.  
  
In a strained voice she managed: "May I please be excused?"  
  
"Certainly, dear." said Evelyn smoothly, and without so much as a glance at Christian Satine made her escape.  
  
When she stopped moving she found herself in the library. She sank into a leather chair facing away from the wall. She curled up into it, hugging an embroidered pillow to her chest. Ha ha, no one can see me, she chanted childishly in her head.  
  
See who? Julia? Satine? Who are you, little girl? Do you know? Do they know? Little girl? Who are you? Where are you from? Who are you? Julia? Julia? Who are you? Satine? Are you Satine? Or are you Julia? Answer me. Julia? Julia? Satine. Satine? Who are you, little girl? Where is your mommy and daddy? Are you lost? Don't sniffle. What's your name? Little girl? Little girl, what's your name?  
  
Violet wasn't sure why, but she wanted to go after Julia. Ignoring the rumbling in her stomach and the tantalizing smell of the food, she smiled pleasantly at her father. "Daddy? May I be excused?"  
  
"No." Dead-panned Jeremy, not looking up from his soup.  
  
Christian coughed nervously. "May I?"  
  
"Of course, darling." said Evelyn quickly.  
  
"I sense favorism." sing-songed Violet as Christian disappeared.  
  
Satine rubbed her temples, and with a deep breath she put an end to the madness. My name is Julia Marguerite Deveraux. J-U-L-I-A-space-M-A-R-G-U-E-R-I-T-E-space-D-E-V-E-R- A-U-X. And that's final.  
  
Christian, by some odd reasoning possessed only by those in love, knew exactly where to find Satine, and quickly arrived in the library.  
  
The room looked empty, but he didn't give up. There she was, curled up in a chair, her eyes shut and her fingers gently massaging her temples. Christian knelt besides her, and put a hand on her knee. "Hi." he said quietly.  
  
Satine's eye lashes fluttered open, and for a moment she just looked at the man kneeling next to her. Then she smiled and drew him to her, allowing his arms to encircle her. She leaned her head on his shoulder and lay there for a while. His embrace was very soothing to Satine, and she moved away more relaxed.  
  
"What happened?" he asked with concern in his voice.  
  
"I had a headache." she lied, biting her lip. She had never lied to Christian before.  
  
Christian was instantly anxious. "Are you alright?"  
  
She nodded. "I'm fine. All better, see?" she flashed a bright smile to cinch the act.  
  
Christian was watching her warily and gauging her appearance. Satine remembered with a sinking stomach how easy her expression was to read- but only to Christian.  
  
"And what brought on that headache?" he asked carefully.  
  
She laughed lightly and moved to stand up. "I'm fine." she pressed.  
  
"You don't have to lie to me." Christian whispered, and they were both struck at the same moment with the reminiscence of those words. Had that been just a few weeks before that Christian had said that to her?   
  
Satine bit back tears that she wasn't quite sure of their origin. Christian brushed back his hair.  
  
"I'm just... having some trouble adjusting." she said, exhaling.  
  
"To what, my love?" he asked in a tone that brought Satine even closer to tears. He was right. How could she be having trouble? She was no longer the top courtesan. No longer the Sparkling Diamond. He had taken her away from all that. He was "making an honest woman of her". He was going to marry her. He had brought her into a family that was wonderful and that seemed to love her. He loved her. What was there to adjust to? Being wanted? Being loved?  
  
Being honest?  
  
But I'm not honest! her mind screamed.  
  
Compared to what you were before, you are.  
  
No, I'm not! I'm lying about who I am!  
  
You're Julia. Don't be absurd.  
  
Yes, I'm Julia. But I'm not a deposed socialite. I'm not a lost debutante who lost my mummy and daddy. I'm just... just...  
  
See?  
  
Oh, shut up.  
  
Christian watched her eyes with growing concern. "Darling?"  
  
Satine shook her head, and banished every thought from her head, leaving her mind soothingly blank. "I'm fine." she smiled affirmatively. "Shall we go back to dinner?"  
  
Satine turned around and started towards the dining room.  
  
~*~  
  
"Julia, darling," started Evelyn. "I was thinking of going shopping tomorrow. What do you think?"  
  
Satine quickly swallowed her dessert. "I'd love to."  
  
Evelyn smiled pleasantly. "After all, there's so much to do before the wedding. Have you decided a date, yet?"  
  
Christian and Satine exchanged a glance before Christian spoke. "We were thinking of sometime in June, Mother."  
  
Evelyn put a hand to her chest. "Oh, won't that be lovely. Julia, as a summer bride. Well, my darling, we haven't a minute to spare. June is but a few months away. We need..." Evelyn started ticking items off her fingers. "Invitations, a caterer, to arrange it with the church, flowers to decide, bridesmaids dresses..."  
  
Violet swirled her spoon in her creme brulée. "I think we'll just die of sheer excitement!" she gushed sarcastically. "And here I thought they were already married."  
  
"They are." defended Annette hotly. "They're getting remarried in our church."  
  
"Violet." said Jeremy warningly.  
  
Violet made a noise in the back of her throat. "I honestly don't get it. I make an innocent comment and Little Miss Holier-than-thou jumps down my throat and Daddy Dearest gets on my case."  
  
"And you honestly need social skills." stated Christian. "Get over it."  
  
Violet's jaw dropped. Here she was, being ripped apart, and no one was doing a thing about it. Evelyn was preoccupied with her dessert, Julia could care less, Annette was glaring, Christian had an awfully patronizing look on his face, Jeremy looked murderous, and Thomas just was disturbed.  
  
Gregory, however, was looking at his older sister with what looked like respect. And at that moment, an realization made itself known.  
  
Violet had a new ally. 


End file.
